


When Legolas lived in Westeros

by Sofdalforte



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: BAMF Arya Stark, BAMF Legolas Greenleaf, BAMF Thranduil, Daenerys Targaryen Is Not a Mad Queen, F/M, I Will Go Down With This Ship, Jaime Lannister Redemption, Jon Snow is a Targaryen, Legolas in Westeros, Legolas is the best, POV Cersei Lannister, Protective Legolas Greenleaf, Queen Daenerys Targaryen, Sansa Stark is a Brat, Sorry Not Sorry, Tormund gives nicknames, elves are the best, elves in Westeros, he’s Daenerys’ husband, i can’t get it out of my head, the wight search but better, their child would have perfect hair
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-25
Updated: 2021-02-04
Packaged: 2021-03-17 17:41:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 30,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28978314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sofdalforte/pseuds/Sofdalforte
Summary: So, I love The Lord of the Rings and I love Game of Thrones.Legolas and Daenerys are my favorite characters respectively.And just imagine how perfect the hair of their child would be...Ok no. Seriously, I saw this pairing on a YouTube edit and was baffled to find out there wasn’t even a fic under this relationship.So this is me adding Legolas to the last seasons, because Eru Illúvatar didn’t think it was time for the elves to stop helping the world of men even if they weren’t needed in Middle Earth anymore.I apologize in advance if any LOTR lore is wrong, I’m not a Tolkien scholar and I have not finished all the books. This is mostly movie based, but still, I don’t like inconsistencies so if you see something wrong do not hesitate to tell me about it.
Relationships: Jon Snow & Arya Stark, Jon Snow & Legolas Greenleaf, Legolas Greenleaf & Arya Stark, Legolas Greenleaf & Thranduil, Legolas Greenleaf/Daenerys Targaryen
Comments: 32
Kudos: 29





	1. Meeting the King in the North

Legolas was growing impatient. Which was odd, considering he was an immortal elf.

He could see the ship nearing Dragonstone from his perch on the hills, but that was obviously thanks to his better sight, meaning that the supposed king in the North was still very far away.

Legolas had assured Daenerys they would make him bend the knee, but he told her not to expect for him to do so instantly, after all he had observed the behavior of those who wear the crowns for thousand of years, he had an idea of what to expect. Considering who his father was and how he was, Legolas was ready for pretty much anything.

He heard the steps some time before the person behind him spoke. 

“Do you see them?” Tyrion asked, coming to stand beside him. 

“Yes. A gray wolf is on the sails.” He answered and looked at Tyrion who nodded. He had become quite acquainted with the dwarf. He reminded him of Gimli, but in a very different way, not just because they were both dwarves, but because they both were very determined even in their short stature. In the rest, they were as different as they could be.

“That’s the one.” Legolas sensed there was something bothering him, or better yet something that he wanted to say, the fact that he wasn’t saying it when he always talked so much made him wonder. “Say what you will Tyrion, I can sense the words on the tip of your tongue.”

He sighed and spoke, “I’ve been thinking and perhaps, you should go meet them at the beach.” Legolas frowned, he thought they had decided he would stand besides Daenerys in the throne room. What reason could he have for the sudden change.

“And why is that?” 

“They know that the queen is married, but they don’t know who she is married to... if you meet them there you can avoid the fact that you’re the king, and get them to talk freely to you and me over the long stairs.” It made sense, yet he wasn’t sure Daenerys would like it. That’s why Tyrion hadn’t spoken freely.

“Daenerys won’t like this.” Tyrion nodded with a slight frown. Legolas checked again for the ship, nearer this time. They would be here in approximately an hour. “I shall go inform her, for I too am curious to meet this King in the North who dares claim one of my melethenin’s kingdoms.”

“I’m sure you’ll have no problem making an entrance down at the beach. If there’s one thing you and the queen have in common, is the love for dramatic entrances.” Legolas chuckled and started running back to the castle. “That and the perfect hair!” Tyrion shouted after him.

———

  
“No.”

“Melethenin, it’s a sound idea. Imagine their faces when they discover that I’m your husband.” Daenerys’ answer hadn’t surprised him at all. He was sure she would say no, but as always he tried to convince her and let her see all the angles to hit their target. Even though this was proving as hard as when he’d convinced her that dragons could plant trees and not just burn them, even if it had to be very, very carefully.

“I will not have you go down there and leave me all alone up here, Legolas. I need you by my side.” He stepped closer to her, grasping her shoulder and twirling a lock of her silver hair around his finger. 

“You don’t need me. You don’t need anyone, you’re one of the strongest people I’ve known and even if we weren’t married and you sat on the throne without me there, you would make them see you for what you are, a great queen.” She smiled, with those violet eyes that drove him crazy. She caressed his cheek and they closed the gap between them. “You can do anything in this world, melethenin. You have the strength of a dragon.”

When they broke apart, Daenerys sighed, “If this is what you want then it shall be done, my love.” He hugged her to himself, enjoying the natural heat of her being. In all his immortal life, he had never felt as happy and carefree as he did when he was with Daenerys. Some would think that he’d found love very late, considering most elves fell in love in their first century of life, yet he couldn’t be the slightest bit bothered by that, his love for her transcended the seas and lands of both Westeros and Arda.

He gazed outside the window of the Chamber of the Painted Table, and without need of his elvish sight, he made out the silhouette of the ship. “I guess the wolves are coming.” His meleth said beside him. 

“And they shall be received.” He answered. “With a silent welcome.” 

Daenerys laughed and hit his chest playfully. “Are you gonna jump front the mountain slope or something, my love?” 

“Something like that, melethenin.” He smiled at her.

As the ship got nearer, he kissed Daenerys once more. Grabbing his bow of the Galadhrim, he ventured to the beach. Once outside, he spied the entourage with Tyrion, Missandei and the Dothraki, or as he thought of them most of the time, the savage version of the Rohirrim.

From the ship, he could see there were men boarding a small boat that would take them to shore. Watching the Sea from Dragonstone often made him feel the yearning to sail, even though he technically already did, but apparently he had other things to do before going to the Undying Lands. 

He was in fact glad for that shipwreck and that last instinct he felt of leaving Gimli behind and to sail on his own. His dearest friend would have been shipwrecked too and with his mature age now, he probably wouldn’t have survived. But most of all that the shipwreck had done for him, had been to leave him stranded in Qarth when Daenerys was there. Meeting her had changed his wish to leave for the Undying Lands, he loved her with all his heart and she loved him.

Legolas was now observing the nearing boat from the top of the dragonglass filled mountain. He could make them out now, a man with longish dark hair, an older man with graying hair and some soldiers. Still too far...

Finally the boat touched shore and Legolas took that as his cue to make his entrance. So down the steep mountain slope he went, he wouldn’t be spotted until he wanted to be. He could pick up the conversation now.

“The Bastard of Winterfell!” That had been Tyrion. 

“The Dwarf of Casterly Rock.” Wow. Legolas was shocked for a moment, that northern burr reminded him of some of Thorin Oakenshield’s dwarves. A strange shudder came through him with the memory. He jumped through the air and landed right behind the Dothraki guards who turned slightly alarmed at him, but hid their sighs when they noticed who it was. He knew the arrivals had seen his entrance and he could feel Tyrion’s gaze on him, while he heard Missandei’s hidden giggles.

The Dothraki parted for him, respectfully. Telling them he could speak to their horses had quickly earned him their respect, that and his other skills they found impressive. That’s how they’d accepted him for their Khaleesi.

“Legolas.” Tyrion acknowledged quietly. He nodded in his direction in response, but his eyes were focused on their guests. The first thing he noticed was that the man everyone seemed to be talking about was quite short. But he looked like he could hold his own in most fights. Most.

“Forgive me for my tardiness, my lords. In the name of the queen you’re welcomed to Dragonstone.” Jon Snow’s eyes were wary as they stared at him. Like most people in this new world he had stumbled upon.

“There’s nothing to forgive...” he dismissed. “I don’t think we’ve met before?” Legolas wanted to scoff and tell him that was quite obvious but after all, most mortal brains were a bit slow.

Missandei stepped forth. “This is Legolas Thranduillion, he is a member of the Queen’s Council.” Good. Tyrion had told her not to say anything. 

“Thranduillion? Where is that House from?” Legolas smiled a bit, reminiscing about the last time he was home.

“I’m from Eryn Galen, we have no houses there, just family names. Even so, it’s very far, you wouldn’t know it.” Tyrion then changed the course of the conversation and they started their ascend, up the long staircases of his melethenin’s ancestors. 

He sensed them before the others and smiled to himself. His wife knew what she was doing. Intimidation.

Drogon flew lowly and the King in the North ducked down as if his life depended on it. Legolas chuckled as he moved back to held out a hand for him. He took it, Legolas felt him trying to hide his trembling. “You’ll get used to them.”

“No, you won’t.” Tyrion added. Legolas chuckled as Jon Snow still stared amazed at his wife’s children. 

“So tell me how did you become King in the North?” Tyrion asked, as if he didn’t already know what had happened. Legolas decided in the first minutes of the ascent that the king was like Aragorn. They were both equally quiet and solemn, in appearance too, shaggy dark hair and gray eyes.

He’d taken the lead once more, and felt himself being approached by the older man in the company. “My lord, if you’d allow may I ask you a question?”

“Of course you may, Ser Davos.” Openness was the whole point of making him take the stairs, so this better be useful.

“Are you perhaps, related to the queen in some way? For I can’t help but notice that your hair looks Valyrian.” Legolas wanted to outright laugh in his face, but the court of Eryn Galen had taught him to keep his emotions in check.

“No. We’re not related in any sort of way.” The knight nodded, his quietness gave him the chance to ask a question as well.

“What are Lord Snow’s intentions with the queen, Ser?” His voice was firm and slightly commanding, yet not unkind. The knight glanced back at his king. 

“I believe you mean King Jon...” the raised eyebrow irritated Legolas, because he clearly had not meant king, if he had he’d have said it like that. 

“There is only one legitimate monarch in the Seven Kingdoms and that is Queen Daenerys.”   
  
“The king wants what’s best for his people and he wouldn’t have come if he didn’t think the queen could help him with that.” Legolas pondered on that. No... the man would not have come if he didn’t need something from his wife, after all, why come to talk with the queen who has three dragons and a hundred thousand under her command?

“What does he want?” Ser Davos seemed disconcerted for a moment, staring at Legolas. “I grew up in a court of my own... no one does anything without a reason, Ser and if he had come without needing something then he would be a fool.” They were finally nearing the keep, he wasn’t tired of course, but the entourage panted heavily.

“I’m afraid only the king can tell that to the queen, my lord.” The man had a seriousness to him, but he could see that he cared for his king like he would a son. “I’m certain you’ll understand then, but let me tell you this, the king is not a man who seeks power. Power is given to him by those he would command. That’s how he became Lord Commander and that’s how he became king.”

They had finally entered the castle, walking all over the corridors with the intricate dragon designs. He was at the front leading the party, so as soon as the doors to the throne room swung open he strolled easily to his meleth-nin’s side. Missandei followed, and Tyrion after her, his steps short and hurried. 

“You stand in the presence of Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen. The First of her Name, Rightful Heir to the Iron Throne, Rightful Queen of the Andals and the First Men, Protector of the Realm, The Mother of Dragons, The Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, The Unburnt, The Breaker of Chains, and...” here come the faces. “Of Legolas Thranduillion, Crown Prince of the Woodland Realm of Eryn Galen, Member of the Fellowship of the Ring and King Consort of the Seven Kingdoms.”

Yes, they were surprised.

Everyone stared expectantly at Snow and Ser Davos. With a pointed look of his king, the man introduced him. Poorly at that, but not everyone had the talent of conversation like Missandei.

“Thank you for traveling so far, my lord. I hope the seas weren’t too rough.” Legolas wanted to smile so badly when she spoke. Like a true queen.

“The winds were kind, your grace.” He answered. But Ser Davos spoke quickly after it. “Apologies, I have a Fleabottom accent I know, but Jon Snow is King in the North, your grace. He’s not a lord.”

“Forgive me...” Legolas answered her quickly. “Ser Davos Seaworth.” 

“Forgive me Ser Davos, but the way I see it, the North hasn’t been an independent kingdom for 300 years. It has been under the rule of House Targaryen and the usurpers Baratheon and Lannister. The Starks gave up their right to bear a crown, so I don’t see how Lord Snow has come entitled as King in the North.” Legolas had told Daenerys not to mention the oath of fealty to him, for if he was quick witted enough he would throw in her face what her father had done. “So I assume, my lord. You’ve come to clear this mistake and bend the knee to keep your tittle as Warden of the North?”

“I am not.” 

Legolas and Daenerys as if they were of one mind exchanged a short glance at each other. “Oh. Well, that is unfortunate.” She said. 

“You’ve traveled all this way to break faith with House Targaryen? Are you declaring yourself in open rebellion, my lord?” Legolas asked from beside her. The man looked like the stubborn type and he couldn’t help but think how much he reminded him of Aragorn. 

“Break faith?” He asked, an annoyed look in his face. “Your father burned my grandfather alive, he burned my uncle alive, he would have done the same-” 

“My father was an evil man.” She interrupted. “On behalf of House Targaryen I ask your forgiveness for the crimes he committed against your family.” The northerner seemed stunned by this, to him Daenerys was a tyrant as mad as her father had been and Legolas would not have it.

“And I ask you not to judge a daughter by the sins of her father. For the Queen wasn’t even born when her father was murdered.” 

“Honor the pledge made by our ancestors lord Snow, and our alliance shall bring forth peace and prosperity to a realm bathed in blood and war.” Daenerys told him. “Together we would save this country from those who would destroy it.”

The man looked around himself and then turned to address them once more, “Your husband is right. You’re not guilty of your father’s crimes, but I’m not beholden to my ancestors’ vows.” 

Legolas felt his jaw clench, he sensed Daenerys’ anger, but he spoke before she did. “I gather that you had trouble assembling your lords to retake your home, didn’t you?” Jon Snow nodded. “And didn’t you go to them because they were beholden to the vows their ancestors made? What makes you different from them that you refuse to behold yours?”

He felt Tyrion’s gaze on him, but Legolas stared intently at the man below him. His eyes focused on gauging his reaction. And what a reaction! The man’s jaw clenched tightly. He didn’t seem to have anything to say to that and Legolas was pleased, he was tired of the clever snips. He wanted action even though he knew it may not yet come.

“If I am correct your brother betrayed them too, so I see no reason why the acts of the rebellion should be considered as an excuse not to behold the vows of your ancestors.” Daenerys added, an eyebrow raised. That seemed to break him out of his stupor.

“My brother was betrayed by those he thought his allies.” He uttered. “I could bend the knee right now, your graces,” A pointed look at both. “But with respect, I don’t know you. And the lords of the North put their trust in me to guide them, and I won’t betray that.” 

“Then why are you here?” Daenerys was running out of patience by then. The edge in her voice was one he recognized from when she’d dealt with the slavers of Slaver’s Bay. 

“Because I need your help and you need mine.” Legolas wanted to outright scoff at that, though Daenerys was amused. 

“Did you see three dragons flying overhead when you arrived?” He nodded. “And did you see the Dothraki, all of whom have sworn to kill for me?” 

“It’s hard to miss them.” He could agree with that sentiment, for the horse warriors weren’t his favorite either.

She motioned slightly with her hand to him and Legolas faster than sight had an arrow nocked and ready on him. “Or did you see my husband nock that arrow just now?”

“Can’t say that I did.” His shoulders were tense. A glance from Tyrion told him he wasn’t ok with this display, but he had already put away the arrow and his bow was slung over his shoulder once more. Ser Davos was looking at him curiously.

“But still we need your help?” 

“Not to defeat Cersei.” The knight spoke. “I’m sure you could storm King’s Landing tomorrow and the city would fall. Hell, along with Stannis we almost took it and we didn’t have dragons.” 

“Almost.” Tyrion leveled his gaze and Legolas couldn’t hide his amused grin. He had told him the story of the Battle of Blackwater Bay and Legolas was sure he would never pass an opportunity to gloat about saving King’s Landing.

“But you haven’t stormed King’s Landing. Why not?” He seemed to be someone who liked to state the obvious this Jon Snow, that was usually what he did to make sure his human companions were on the know, but coming from him was growing to be annoying. “The only reason I can see is because you don’t want to kill innocent people even if it is the fastest way to win the war, but you won’t do it. Which means at the very least, you’re better than Cersei.”

“Careful, my lord. Do not pretend to compare my wife to that woman.” Legolas warned carefully. His eyes hardened into a dangerous expression. Daenerys took his hand. “Melethenin...”

“I didn’t intend to cause offense.” He apologized.

“None taken, but that doesn’t answer my question. Why do I need your help?” Daenerys was dangerously calm, the northerner was threading on a very fine line. 

He answered with a response that crossed the very fine line. “Because right now, you and I and Cersei and everyone else, we are children playing at a game screaming that the rules aren’t fair.”

“Tyrion you told me that you liked this man, in the time we’ve known him he’s refused to bend the knee and now he’s calling _me_ a child.” The dwarf gulped at the seething look Legolas was giving him. But answered cleverly none the less.

“I believe he’s calling all of us children. A figure of speech...”

“I could call you all children.” Legolas said under his breath. He understood what the man meant, of course, but he was irritating. That was not the way to speak when trying to form an alliance. 

“Your grace, everyone you know will die before winter if we don’t defeat the enemy to the north.” Jon Snow said exasperated. 

“As far as I can see you are the enemy to the north.” Daenerys countered. 

“I am not your enemy.” He paused. “The dead are the enemy.” Legolas knew his ears would never fail him but he was unsure he heard it right. 

“The dead? Is that another figure of speech?” Legolas asked him. He didn’t think it was, because as he’d come to realized this world was very similar to Middle Earth and if there was a dead army there, a dead army could be very possible here as well. 

“The army of the dead is on the march and if we don’t ally against them...” he let the silence hang.

“The army of the dead?” Tyrion asked almost amused by what he said.

Jon Snow turned to him with an agitated expression. “You don’t know me well, my lord, but do you think I’m a liar or a mad man?” 

“No, I don’t think you’re either of those things.”

“The army of the dead is real, the White Walkers are real, the Night King is real. I’ve seen them. And if they get past the Wall and we’re squabbling amongst ourselves... we’re finished.” Legolas noticed that he was very passionate about this and so he didn’t believe he was lying, which made him uneasy for this army didn’t sound like one that could be used against Sauron but instead sounded more like the Uruk-Hai and the orcs.

He could see Tyrion didn’t believe a word, but he turned to look at Daenerys when he sensed her looking. He had told her the stories, she had believed him. She knew everything that he’d been through, from the Battle of the Five Armies to Tauriel to the Fellowship and to the defeat of Sauron. She knew to be cautious in case this could be real, no one more than them knew that evil was real and it had many faces.

“Let’s say I believe you...” Legolas ventured. He stepped forward, down the steps he went to stand in front of him. He was much taller than him so he had to look down at him. “You want an alliance to defeat them right?”

“Aye, I do.” He agreed. His gaze shifted between him and Daenerys who sat tall and intently on the throne. 

“Alright.” Legolas said. He turned around and walked back to Daenerys. Tyrion was trying not to openly gape. His wife raised an eyebrow but she knew he would defend her until his last breath so she didn’t have to question what he did. 

“Alright?” He almost laughed at the tone in which he said that. As if he hadn’t expected it to be so simple. How mistaken he was.

Retaking his place besides Daenerys he spoke. “You’ll have your alliance when you bend the knee and my wife sits on the Iron Throne of her ancestors to rule this land. And not Six Kingdoms. She will rule the Seven Kingdoms even if you refuse to give it up willingly, I can assure you.”

“She’ll be ruling over a graveyard if we don’t defeat the dead.” He deadpanned, Daenerys stood up then, angry.

“I spent my life in foreign lands. So many men have tried to kill me, I don't remember all their names. I have been sold like a broodmare. I've been chained and betrayed, raped and defiled. Do you know what kept me standing, through all those years in exile? Faith. Not in any gods, not in myths and legends. In myself. In Daenerys Targaryen.” Legolas was sad to have to rehear the hardships she’d been through, but he was still very proud of his wife in that moment. “The war with Cersei has already begun, and while I’ve seen many unbelievable things I cannot be sure what you claim is real for me to postpone my battle plans over it.”

"You don't believe him? I understand that, it sounds like nonsense, but if destiny has brought Daenerys Targaryen back to our shores, it has also made Jon Snow King in the North. You were the first to bring Dothraki to Westeros? He is the first to make allies of wildlings and Northmen, he was named Lord Commander of the Night's Watch, he was named King in the North, not because of his birthright, he has no birthright, he's a damn bastard. All those hard sons of bitches chose him as their leader because they believe in him. All those things you don't believe in, he faced those things. He fought those things for the good of his people, he risked his life for his people, he took a knife in the heart for his people, he gave his own.....” Jon Snow gave him a look, Ser Davos stopped mid sentence and Legolas’ interest was piqued. “If we don't put aside our enmities and band together, we will die, and then it won't matter whose skeleton sits on the Iron Throne.”

“If it doesn’t matter then bend the knee and be done with it. The queen and I will help anyone that’s under our protection after winning against Cersei.” Legolas urged. He observed now from besides the throne. Jon Snow turned to him from Daenerys and glared. 

“And why would I do that?” Legolas was mildly surprise by the fierceness Snow thought was intimidating. “I mean no offense, your grace, but as I said earlier, I don’t know you, as far as I can tell your claim rests entirely on your father’s name, and my own father fought to overthrow the mad king.” His eyes moved from Legolas to Daenerys as he spoke. “The lords of the North will not accept a Targaryen ruler after all they lost at the hand of your father nor will they accept a Lannister for that matter.”

“And even if I did bend the knee, your grace.” A pointed look at Legolas. “There’s no time for that, by then the dead will have already passed the Wall and killed everything and everyone on their path.” Daenerys turned away from him then. And looked straight into Legolas’ eyes. He knew what she meant, they would tell him.

“It just so happens that our armies are already marching, my lord.” As if he had planned it, in that moment he heard the hurrying steps of one annoying eunuch. Now entering the throne room with a parcel in his hands. Daenerys turned from Legolas to the arriving Varys.

“My queen, my king. The Lannister army was defeated in Highgarden by the Dothraki.” Tyrion perked up at that, his eyes were smiling, but Legolas noted worry there, for his brother the Kingslayer, perhaps. With the announcement came a smile upon Daenerys’ face. 

“That is fantastic news.” She announced. Her gaze turned from Varys to their ‘guests’. “You must forgive my manners, you’ll both be tired after the long journey. We’ll have baths drawn for you and supper sent to your chambers.” Daenerys walked back up the steps to the throne before Jon asked her,

“Am I your prisoner?” 

Legolas exchanged a glance with her and they both answered in unison. “Not yet.”

With that they left the throne room behind and shared a complicit smile. 


	2. The first step to an alliance

It had been about a week or so since the northern entourage had arrived in Dragonstone and it wasn’t long before the siege of King’s Landing would start. Even though it hadn’t gone according to plan. He had been right in thinking Highgarden would be the main focus for someone who was drowning in debts on all sides, but alas neither him nor Tyrion had taken into account the enemy ships and their allies from Dorne and the Iron Islands had paid the price. 

Now they needed the alliance with the North to rally the rest behind them, so they won’t be seen as foreign invaders, even more so because the queen wouldn’t be available to a marriage alliance. So now it had also been about a week that Legolas had been thinking of what to do. Tyrion had spoken with Jon Snow and the man had asked for dragonglass, apparently that was the only thing that could defeat the dead soldiers. 

So Daenerys and him had agreed to allow him to mine it that same day, the first one to see him would tell him. It just so happened that it would be Legolas.

“You should practice your stealth abilities, my lord.” Legolas said as a greeting. Jon Snow had arrived to the rampart from which Legolas gazed upon the sea, feeling the longing to sail... “You breathe so loudly I could have shot you in the dark.”

“It’s all of this stairs. They clearly didn’t intend to use them most of the time.” He answered. Walking to gaze at the view from beside him. 

“Yes. When one has dragons there’s no need for stairs.” He agreed. The screeches of the winged children reached him as they appeared in view, playing as they flew towards the sun. He broke his focus and turned towards the northerner.

“My wife and I have decide to allow your request.” Legolas started. “We will allow you to mine the dragonglass you need and will provide you with men to do so.” He sighed in relief.

“I thank you, your grace.” Jon Snow thanked and Legolas nodded at him. “So you believe me then?”

“I’ve always believed you, my lord.” He was pleased to see he’d gotten the reaction he wanted. Total confusion. “You would be a fool to come and claim things no one would believe with the risk of getting killed hanging over their heads.” He was looking for something to say, not really knowing what to answer and Legolas allowed himself to chuckle. “Lord Snow, I am not of this land nor am I mortal, I’ve seen things in my lifetime that you would never imagine, and I’ve seen an army of the dead of my own, nothing can surprise me at this point, I think.”

“Another army of the dead?” Jon asked perplexed. Legolas was stunned that it was the only fact that had stuck with him from what he’d said. Just further proving his point. The man wasn’t lying and he would help him defeat this enemy that had him so shocked to the core, but the throne of his meleth-nin came first. “Then why will you not help us?”

“The throne of the queen comes first.” 

“You’re willing to let innocents die for an ugly chair of swords?” He was frustrated, Legolas could see. 

“It is the way of war. It has been since the beginning. A goal can’t be accomplished without sacrifice and your own always comes first.” He thought about his father with that, he hadn’t wanted to defend further than their part of the then Mirkwood, only what was their own. In this world of politics he now was directly a part of, he thought often about Thranduil. What would he think about what Legolas had made of his life? Would he care?

“Just how far do you come from?” He changed the subject, perhaps not wanting to risk the mining allowance...

He considered lying but the man reminded him so much of young Aragorn that he couldn’t stop himself. “Not even I know how far I am from home. I was shipwrecked, and I do not know the way back.” He admitted. The man looked apologetic. “But I have a home in my wife, she’s the light of my life. I would do anything for her...” the menacing look carried the veiled threat perfectly. “Do you have one, my lord? A reason to fight for?” 

“No, I have not been so fortunate.” The look in his eyes told Legolas something else. There once was someone, someone he’d loved but tragedy had struck him. He shook himself and seemed to consider something. After a moment he spoke again. “How are you not mortal exactly, your grace? How old are you?” He found amusing the fact that Jon kept calling him ‘your grace’ while he called him ‘my lord’. Perhaps Ser Davos had been right in saying that he did not seek power, but the heart of men was corruptible, easily, yet he knew that it wasn’t right to give up faith in them. Boromir had taught the Fellowship that, for as corrupted as he’d been by the Ring, he’d given his life to defend the innocent, Merry and Pippin, and in his eyes that bravery was to be considered important.

“I am not human.” Legolas expressed. “I am an elf.” He moved his hair from his face and uncovered the pointy ears hidden beneath it. His eyes widened, not in fear but in curiosity. The man was mostly stoic and that was the reason why Legolas enjoyed seeing a reaction from him so much. “I’m unsure of how old I am. I’d say about 3.056 years old.”

“3.056?” He choked out. “I had never heard of elves... where do you hail from?” Legolas gave him a pointed look. “Right. A far away land.” He seemed thoughtful for a second before asking another question. “Is that how you’re so quiet and you heard me arrive from far away?” A nod.

“Are there no others like you in Westeros?” Legolas shook his head. “I’m sorry.” 

“It’s no matter.” He dismissed. “You should go and start mining, my lord.” With that farewell Legolas left jumping from place to place all the way back to the castle, to find his meleth-nin.


	3. Over the Wall we go

Legolas wasn’t sure Tyrion’s plan was completely sound, but he had to admit that if it worked they could achieve much. The meeting with his abominable sister had already been planned, now all they needed was the dead man, and he would help catch it.

Daenerys hadn’t been pleased about that in the slightest, up until the last moment she had been trying to convince him not to go and they had spend some days without speaking to each other. But he knew that it had to be done, she knew it too, but was much too stubborn to admit it. She liked to be right about everything.

They were about to leave now, the boat was waiting for them, and Daenerys refused to look at him. This gave him great pain, for he would be thinking of his meleth-nin all the way there and back. He approached her, and she tried not to meet his eyes when he searched her gaze.

“Melethenin...” her eyes so very slowly met his, fiery violet against intense blue. “You know why I’m to do this. You know it is the right thing for me to do.” Legolas told her. She shook her head slightly, not wanting to show her emotions in front of others.

“It sounds too dangerous, my love. I fear for your life, I don’t want you to leave...” she whispered. Legolas held her in his arms, hugging her protectively to him. Whispering reassurances in her ear.

“I am 3.056 years old, Daenerys. No army of the dead will kill me now, not when I have you to come back to.” She gasped, holding in a sob into his shoulder. “You are my wife, melethenin. I will not leave you, not now, not ever. I promise.”

“I am holding you to that, Legolas.” She half-smiled and Legolas had to reassure himself that it would be enough, at least for now. He caressed her cheek and gave her a quick kiss.

“Ni meleth le, Daenerys.” He said before boarding the small boat. Over the wind he heard her say it back. “Ni meleth le, Legolas.”

———

Well, the Wall was cold enough. Similar to the Pass of Caradhras, really. Although he admitted to being impressed by the ice structure. It was as tall as Minas Tirith, but made of ice which seemed extraordinary to Legolas. Everything was covered in snow, leaving the place painted white.

They were now about to depart, he had caught a glance of his companions but hadn’t officially met them yet, except for Ser Jorah who he still didn’t trust much after Daenerys’ betrayal but who was good enough company, and for the blacksmith boy Gendry whom he’d met on the ship. A young man, talented in his profession but with a temper. Gendry had given him the dragonglass arrows himself and recreated his blades in the same material, but he refused to part with his elvish made ones, so he found himself carrying four swords, since Jon Snow didn’t know wether they would work or not, he had to try and use them on the dead. 

He approached the group that was finishing arming themselves alongside the king in the North. He caught sight of him and introduced him. “This is Legolas Thranduillion, Prince of Eryn Galen and King consort of Queen Daenerys.” Legolas nodded at them. “It’s a pleasure.”

“Your grace, this are Chieftain Tormund Giantsbane, Lord Beric Dondarrion, Thoros of Myr and Sandor Clegane, also known as the Hound.” The men were all burlier than him, but he was just as tall, he noticed that the redheaded one was eyeing him more strangely than the others. But they all nodded in greeting. 

“Aren’t ya cold?” Sandor Clegane asked. He had a gruff voice and a hard exterior, he looked a little bit like Thorin Oakenshield in truth.

“I do not feel the cold.” He answered. He looked at him warily as he rubbed his hands together to gather heat. It was a sound question, for Legolas was dressed as he had been when they traveled over Caradhras and towards Moria.

“So we have a pretty southerner with us.” The wildling exclaimed. “King Crow are you sure this pretty blond princeling will last in a fight? Wouldn’t want no dragon burning me because their king didn’t go back.” He heard Tormund Giantsbane ask quietly and caught Jon Snow’s eyes with a smirk on his face. 

“I can assure you Tormund Giantsbane that I will not be dying on this mission.” The redhead turned in a stupor, staring at him warily, surely wondering how he had managed to hear what he’d said. With that he walked away, towards Ser Jorah, but not before hearing the wilding ask “How the fuck is he not leaving footprints on the snow?”

Now, already over the Wall, Legolas found himself entranced by the beauty, the trees were of a kind he had never seen before, white barks and red leaves. But what was most impressive were the carved faces on the trunk. These trees were very vocal, they spoke of dead and decay in the land which worried him slightly. 

His companions seemed completely bewildered by the fact he was walking over the snow while they were stomping over and over. That and the fact that he left no footprints. 

“How the fuck are you doing that?” Asked Tormund when Legolas had stopped to scout ahead with his elvish sight. He turned to the man who was motioning towards his feet. “How are you walking over the snow while we’re sinking in it?”

“I am no mortal man. I am an elf and that makes me light on my feet. Also didn’t you notice my ears?” He told them and signaled his ears that after so long were finally uncovered by his hair. He had taken to wearing his hair over them since people stared when they were out in the open, but now, back on a mission they were unhidden and alert. 

He kept on walking behind the ranger and the other wildling guides they had. “Now wait a moment, what in the seven hells do you mean an elf?” The Hound and Tormund walked briskly through the snow to catch up with him. But just then he saw something.

“Wait.” He called over the howling wind. Everyone stopped on their tracks. “I see something.” Jon walked up to him and squinted his eyes. 

“I don’t see anything.” Legolas wanted to scoff at him, always stating the obvious. “Of course, you don’t. Are you an elf, my lord? No. Me on the other hand, can see great distances and I see a small group led by a strange figure. Are these White Walkers blue? As if made of ice?”

“Aye, they are. Can you lead the way there?” Jon asked him gravely. Legolas nodded. 

“Sure. If you can keep up.” With that he started onward and heard Jon instructing the others to follow him. Legolas found amusing the curses that the Hound sent towards him, cursing him for not being cold and for walking over the snow. “You’d be warmer if you were quicker, Ser. Instead of cursing me.” He shouted at him and his sole eyebrow rose in surprise. Legolas chuckled and kept guiding them through the snow. “I’m no Ser.” He heard him grumble.

He lost the group he was focused on when they passed behind a hill, and Legolas hurried his pace up the slope. Reaching the top he crouched and spied them. Indeed they were as ugly as Uruk-Hai, they were walking dead bodies, with the exception of the tall horseman made of ice. 

He’d left his companions behind and now he heard them making their way up the slope. When he caught Jon’s eye he motioned downward with his hand telling him to crouch as well. He reached his side and spoke. “That group’s small enough. We can try to catch the wight but we would have to kill the Walker and when you kill them, the ones they’ve brought back die with them.”

Legolas nodded in understanding. “Only one way to find out.” He nocked an arrow and pointed at the Walker. He was about to shoot when Jon frowned and placed a hand on his shoulder. “What are you doing? If you shoot him he’ll see it coming and he’ll see us.” 

“If he sees us, then we fight.” And with that he let go of the arrow. The creature turned, but it wasn’t quick enough. The arrow embedded itself in the front of his head and letting out a devious screech shattered into a thousand pieces. All the wights around him fell and Jon cursed. 

“We need to find another group. But at least that’s one Walker less in the actual battle.” 

“Give me a moment.” Legolas scanned as far as his sight allowed him and found a bigger group making their way East not too far from their current location, so he pointed this out to Jon. “I’ve found another group not far from here. If we hurry we can ambush them before they join the bigger host.”

They set off on their way and soon came upon them. Thankfully they could take cover on the hills and when they were all set up, Jon addressed them. “Alright. We need to catch one of them alive so we have to distract the Walker and get the wight away from the group.”

“I shall go first. I’m quick enough.” Legolas volunteered. 

“You sure?” Jon asked uncertainly, but Tormund scoffed playfully. “Quick enough he says. He’s outrun us all in a matter of minutes, the princeling.” He gave him an amused smile, nodding at Jon before he set down the slope. Sliding over the snow. Up close they were worst than from far away, and the stench was suffocating him. He looked up towards his companions and nodded. The Hound followed down the slope, not as quietly or as gracefully as Legolas and the attention of the wights was upon them. Snarling and launching themselves upon them. 

He made quick work of them shooting fast and bringing them down as the rest of his companions joined them down the slope. When they kept coming hard and fast Legolas opted for his blades, unsheathing the elvish ones first and slashing over the fray of rotten bodies. Jumping and twirling he disposed of any that approached him. These dead men were as fierce and feral as orcs, but weaker, making it easier for him to dispose of them. Out of the corner of his eye he felt something come launching full force towards them and he was too slow before it went for the neck of one of the Stark guards in the company. 

“A bear!” One of them yelled and Legolas was quickly on it. An undead bear, he noticed, when the thing stopped biting at the poor guard. His eyes fixing on Legolas, he smirked and ran, knowing it would follow. 

“Princeling! What are you doing?” Yelled Tormund. Legolas didn’t turn to reply. He pushed himself up with the side of the mountain, and over the bear he went. Falling on top of the big creature easily and using his swords to cut off its head. The bear fell limp and Legolas landed gracefully to rejoin the fight. “That’s what I was doing!” He motioned for Tormund to see the now dead bear in the snow.

“I’ve got it!” Legolas turned towards the Hound while he shot a wight that wanted to jump on Beric and his strange flaming sword. He’d captured the wight that was struggling against him. A groan called his attention towards Jon who was struggling with the now angry White Walker. He shot at the thing but it cut his arrow midair. Legolas frowned and decided his blades would have to do. 

He charged at the creature while Jon kept its strikes at bay. By then two of the wildlings had fallen, as well as the remaining Stark guard, and some wights had decided to circle Jon as he defended himself against the icy monster, now forcing him to take his focus off it. The Walker turned to find Legolas already upon him, his elvish blades out. Hoping that their magic would work on this creature as well.

He parried with it for a bit, the thing almost pushing him aside with its staff, but Legolas was as light as air and twirled and spun away from it. He went to stab it but the thing caught one of his blades, yet that hadn’t been Legolas plan, much like he’d done with that orc Bolg more than a century ago. He stared into the evil blue eyes of the creature and smirked. He swung his body upwards and onto the creature, clearly not expecting him to do so. And stabbed him right through the head, the thing let out a screech that resembled the Dazgul, as it shattered into a thousand pieces of ice, while Legolas jumped away from it, landing once more unscathed on the snow. 

The wights attacking Jon fell limp and only about 3 remained alive, being quickly disposed of, luckily including the one still fighting against the bindings the Hound had put around it. He felt the heavy gazes of his companions.

“What?” He asked bewildered. They should be turning around and leaving while they could, Legolas had a bad feeling about this. That seemed to shook them out. He was glad to see Ser Jorah alive because even if he wasn’t his favorite person, he knew Daenerys was fond of him and would be incredibly sad if he did not return. 

Thoros and Beric took care of the bodies and burned them.

“You...” Tormund and Jon were probably the most surprised. “You killed that thing like it was nothing.” 

Legolas didn’t understand what they meant, it had been stronger than the wights but it really hadn’t been much trouble... oh, but for them it was a big deal. Huh. “That’s because it was. I’ve dealt with worst things, these Walkers are very slow.” 

“That move you made... when you spun over its body and stood on his shoulders, where did you learn that?” That was Beric who so far hadn’t spoke to him. “How did you even do it?”

“Oh, that. Um, I’m not really sure, it’s an old trick alright. Used it about 150 years ago, I think.” He confessed. Truthfully elves weren’t very good remembering dates, but that orc had been a menace. He’d made him bleed. That was not acceptable and that was the sole reason he remembered. That and because it was the day he left his home and tried to let go of his love for Tauriel.

“One hundred and...” almost all of their eyes widened. Except for Ser Jorah who had known he’d been alive for very long, and Jon who probably remembered his age. 

“Yes, I am 3.056 years old if that makes it easier to grasp, but we should be going back. An evil presence moves from the north.” They looked even more bewildered and Legolas sighed in frustration.

“Alright. Questions can be asked while we move.” Jon reacted and with that they were off, going back the way they came. But that didn’t last long, for Legolas sensed a dark presence, that grew by the second all around them. He scanned the tundra and his eyes widened in worry. 

“They’re here.” He said. Jon stopped dead in his tracks. Not as dead as the owners of the footsteps he heard. The noice made him dizzy, there were so many... coming from everywhere. “We have to run!”

And run they did, but the wights were too many and soon they were almost upon them. Legolas didn’t know what they’d do if they got surrounded and stranded. He wouldn’t keep his promise to Daenerys after all, because not even he could fight himself out of a number as big as the one that followed them. 

“Daenerys!” Jon called out to him as they ran. “We have to tell her. Send for her.” Legolas was immediately refusing. 

“No. She can’t come here. She cannot risk her life or her dragons for this.” He told him sternly. 

“If she doesn’t come we’ll all die. You think she will let you die?” As he asked that the shrieks coming from the abominations that chased them grew louder. 

“I will not risk her life for mine. I’ve lived my life, now she should live hers and save everyone from this madness.” Legolas was resilient. He would fight until his last breath but he wouldn’t put her at risk, even with the dragons nothing assured him that this Night King didn’t have some kind of magic against them. 

“You would leave her alone to fight this? If she comes at least we’ll have a chance, don’t you want to have more time with her?” Legolas lowered his head, thinking hard. He did not want to leave her alone, she’d been so alone all her life, he did want more time with her but... ‘You can do anything in this world, meleth-nin.’ That’s what he’d told her. If he wanted to keep his promise, he would have to have faith that she was strong enough to come out unscathed.

“Alright. But how are we to send her a message? We won’t reach the Wall.” He yelled back at Jon, louder than before now that the shrieks were deafening and the wind worsened, trying to hold them back from running faster. 

“You’re the fastest, you should go. Run to the Wall and send for her.” Legolas said no to that immediately. “I will not leave all of you here. You will need me in this fight.” 

“Gendry! You have to run and tell them to call for the queen! Send for Daenerys! Run!” Jon called to the boy who nodded and started, but Beric took the war hammer from him throwing it in the snow.

“Leave it! It will slow you down!” With that he was off running as fast as he could. Legolas wondered if even if he made it to the Wall, Daenerys would receive the message on time. Perhaps when she sat on the throne he would have them recreate beacons like Amon Dir. That would certainly be faster.

“They’re closing in!” The Hound shouted. Legolas had to admit the man was strong. He’d been running all this time with the wight on his back. Everyone was getting tired though, they needed to find a way to keep them at bay.

So when they passed over a frozen lake and ran up to a small frozen island on it, they got as lucky as they could because once the wights stepped on the ice, it broke and a couple hundred of them fell in. The bad news was that they were now stranded in the middle of a frozen lake surrounded by an army of dead men that grew by the minute. Legolas used his elvish sight to see how far back the army went and by what he saw he decided that he and Daenerys would have to give priority to this.

The wights waited patiently on the edge of the lake, and his companions were shivering because of the storm that had surrounded them, even Legolas had to admit the temperature had lowered an awful lot, not enough to actually affect him, it was as cold as Caradhras now, yet he worried for his companions’ health.

“What do we do now?” Tormund asked. He had sat down to rest as had the others, Legolas though, was restless. He didn’t like to sit and wait for the enemy to attack, so as he stared at the ice he had an idea.

“I have an idea.” He told them. Jon stood up and walked closer. 

“What did you think of?” 

Legolas turned to him and pointed at the ice. “You know I’m light enough to walk over the snow, I will walk over the ice and reduce their numbers. When they try to follow me they’ll sink again.” His eyes had widened, but it was not him who spoke.

“Your grace, I know you’re a warrior but you can’t expect to be able to take them on your own.” Ser Jorah stood up too, and worriedly glanced between him and the still army behind him. Legolas frowned at him. “Do not pretend to tell me what I can and cannot expect, Ser Jorah. A warrior always knows when to retire from a fight he cannot win, and if I’m telling you I will reduce their number it’s because I will.”

Ser Jorah opened his mouth to retort but the laughter coming from Tormund, the Hound and Thoros had all of them turning to them. In the end it was Thoros who controlled his laughter enough to explain what was so funny, because Legolas wouldn’t appreciate if it was him he considered funny. He’d teach him just how funny he was with an arrow right next to his head. 

“I’m sorry...” He said in between chuckles and with a slur. “But the man took down that bear of hell and that frozen demon like it was nothing. I think he can handle himself if he says so.” The others kept laughing. 

“You’re a pretty southerner, princeling. But you can hold your own. I say do it.” Tormund added as he shook his head in amusement. 

“My home is a northern kingdom too, for your information.” He muttered.

Jon though was not amused. “I’m sure you can hold your own but-” Legolas cut him off before he could finish.

“I will not be questioned by any of you! I know when a plan is foolish and mine is not.” With that he jumped from the little island and landed softly on top of the ice. He ran across it, shooting at the wights in the front forming a small pile of them, with that done he came upon them, using the bodies to push himself up into the air and jump over them to stand on their heads. Spinning around them, beheading, stabbing and kicking at them as he jumped from one head to another. As he moved he sheathed his blades and took up his bow shooting at them before grabbing his blades once more. 

On and on he went and the wights were going crazy, not knowing how to get him from their heads, trying to drag him down by grabbing his feet, but he was too fast and jumped somewhere else before they could. To the others who watched intently, he would have looked like a whirlwind of movement leaving rotten bodies behind him, although at one point he was too slow and a giant wolf jumped at him from somewhere in the midst of the dead, sending him barreling down, but once more Legolas landed gracefully sweeping with his legs and slashing with his blades at the wights, opening some space for himself to grab his bow and shot two arrows at the charging wolf who fell limp on the ice, cracking it. 

Legolas wasn’t the least bit tired, as he fought and fought. It almost reminded him of his days with Tauriel and later on the Fellowship, fighting alongside her against the spiders of Mirkwood, keeping count of his kills with Gimli and getting Aragorn out of a difficult situation, although now he was on his own. 

He had taken the chance to jump over the head of the wights once more and that’s what he’d been doing for a while, but the wights were getting more feral and a dark presence lingered on the back of his neck, as if telling of its presence so he decided to continue with the next phase of the plan. 

He jumped down from the wights heads and kicked and slashed as he moved towards the edge of the lake, now all piled up with rotten corpses and cracking more each time. He stepped on it and with a mighty swing, stabbed his long knife in the ice. A loud cracking noice reverberated all over the tundra and he took that as his chance to run around to show the wights they could come and follow him into the ice. 

The mindless things were already angry and did exactly as expected, stepping feral into the ice, except he hadn’t measured the size of the crack he’d made on it because as he was now directing himself towards the island the ice separated under his feet. His companions were alert, watching him and cried out in warning as the ice broke into chunks. 

Legolas though jumped from piece to piece like he’d done when he fought Bolg, when he’d simply danced through the falling stones. Jumping and jumping until he’d reached the island and with a higher jump landed once more next to his companions with a turn and a crouch. As he did he let out a relieved breath, that had been great exercise. 

“Others take me...” Legolas had never heard that before but he recognized swearing when he heard it. “You blond haired little princeling!” He frowned at the name. The redheaded man didn’t care for tittles and that was something he appreciated but he was certainly not a little princeling anymore. That was what Gimli used to call him too, perhaps they would have liked each other...

As he reminisced about his past, his companions had been talking, and Legolas hadn’t heard a word. 

“And then when he jumped on their cunt heads... ha! They were not expecting that!” Legolas was pretty amused at the praise they gave him, they would faint if they saw his father’s army working together. 

Jon Snow had a strange expression on his face as he moved to talk directly to Legolas. “You’re an impressive warrior, your grace.” Legolas nodded in thanks. 

“You may call me Legolas, my lord. I think the situation calls for it, and I have heard you’re the best swordsman of the Seven Kingdoms.” He smiled. Jon nodded thoughtfully. 

“I think we’re pass calling me ‘my lord’ as well. I was never really a lord anyways.” He joked. “And I wouldn’t call myself that. People like to talk.” Legolas chuckled. 

“You’re much too modest, Jon. Take the compliments, it doesn’t make you look arrogant if they are freely given.” With that he chuckled too, that was probably the first time he’d heard him laugh. Legolas sensed a great sadness from him sometimes. As if something terribly sorrowful had happened to him. He wanted to ask him about it but he had forgotten most of the time or it hadn’t been the right moment.

“You have a great deal of advise, Legolas. Are those things you’ve learned during your life?” Legolas chuckled again. And nodded laughingly. “And I’m still considered a child by most of my people.” Jon gaped slightly at that.

“Do I even want to know?” He asked tiredly.

“No, you do not.” 

The ice was still in pieces, and the wights were still feral and Legolas allowed himself a small smirk when he saw one of them snarling directly at him. He of course brought him down with a quick shot between the eyes. 

“You should probably rest. You took out a big part of them.” Jon advised. He looked incredibly tired and he was slightly shivering, but not as much as the Hound, who tried to hide it.

“I do not need to sleep and I believe that if I did you would feel unsettled.” He told him seriously. He furrowed his eyebrows in question. “I don’t sleep per se, but what I do, I do with my eyes open, it’s unsettling for humans.”

He nodded uncertainly and Legolas grinned at his expression. He looked towards the Hound who cursed the cold again and rubbed his hands together, while the tied wight screeched and wrestled with its bindings. 

Legolas nodded at Jon before walking towards Sandor Clegane. He took off his cloak and offered it to him.

“For you.” He said. The man looked with a grumpy expression that was replaced by strange astonishment. “You would give me your cloak?” Legolas nodded. 

“I do not need it. The cold will not kill me, but it may kill you.” He took the cloak gingerly and wrapped it around himself. 

“You know, I’d usually say fuck the king, but you may yet be a good one, elf.” The man said earnestly and Legolas placed a hand to his chest in traditional thanks. He looked confused for a moment, so Legolas grinned. “Len hannon, Ser.” Before he could ask what it meant he answered. “That’s thank you in elvish.” 

His new companions may not be like his old ones and would never be, but they were brave and true in the way the Fellowship had been. 


	4. Daenerys Targaryen to the rescue

Legolas had the suspicion that they’d been stranded for about three days and with each moment he worried more and more for his companions’ health. They were shivering and their teeth were chattering and Legolas didn’t know what to do at this point, he himself was feeling slightly numb by the cold since he had given his cloak to the Hound about two days before.

And what was worse, that presence in the back of his mind was nearer each time and stronger at that. The ice had frozen over again but the wights were still, not even snarling or growling just watching with those ominous blue eyes that weren’t natural.

“We’ve got to do something, we will die if we stay much longer.” Ser Jorah was telling Jon. Legolas had been standing in the boarder of the ice island, scouting over the bodies of the dead and towards the frozen horizon, trying to identify that malicious presence. 

“We have to trust that the queen will come.” Jon kept saying. Legolas appreciated the trust, but it didn’t depend entirely on Daenerys, if Gendry hadn’t made it to the Wall, she wouldn’t even know they had been stranded and Legolas would perish without seeing her one more time, for as great a warrior as he was, he could never stand against one hundred thousand. 

———

Legolas finally understood what that evil presence he had been feeling for days now was. He looked upon an ancient evil, that although it didn’t reach the darkness of Sauron, it was a foe that would be hard to kill for the race of men. 

So as he stared warily at the iced horseman, the Night King turned his sight upon him. Legolas felt a sudden chill, with the intensity, yet the creature’s expression became wary, as if he knew what Legolas was or what he could do. 

It wasn’t long after that when the wights tried to cross unto the ice, and since the cold had tripled since it had been thin enough to break, now it was frozen solid, meaning they were about to get swarmed by the charging dead men. He immediately started shooting wights left and right, not stopping once, but they kept coming, stepping over their fallen dead undead men and trying to climb on their little island. Soon he’d be out of arrows as well.

Legolas was on it quickly, hitting with his bow, with his blades stabbing, beheading and doing any kind of attack to keep them at bay. Sadly he was the only one of his companions who was actually not letting any of them get on the island and he sensed that sooner or later their human bodies would tire and they would get swarmed. 

He hoped Daenerys made it soon, it had been almost a week, he believed, and if Gendry had made it, with the dragons she should be arriving soon. But they wouldn’t arrive soon enough because so far the remaining wildling had fallen into the mass of putrid bodies and Thoros had been knocked down and even as Beric fought and fought to get to him, Legolas noticed too late and couldn’t shoot before they killed him. He shot down the wights anyways and Beric managed to get to him in the midst of battle and with a stab of his flaming sword burned him before he could be revived. 

A pained look crossed his face.

By then, Tormund was getting swarmed by wights and Legolas nocked arrows as fast as he could, making them fall limp at his side, but more came up that he managed to shook off with the swings of his axe. Legolas shot arrows to the wights on the other side of their land that managed to get on and tried to free their captured wight. 

He noticed that Jon had stopped fighting and Legolas was bewildered, a warrior never stopped fighting unless he couldn’t stand anymore, so Legolas walked backwards towards him, shooting at the wights that tried to climb and finally got to him. 

“You can’t stop fighting now!” He called out to Jon who had a hopeless expression. But as Legolas kicked the wights that were now trying to climb in front of them he heard flapping and he could have cried with happiness. “She’s here!” He cried out to his companions who didn’t have time to look up when the hot flame came from above and obliterated wights left and right. Rhaegal had followed, but Viserion hadn’t, and Legolas was glad. A dragon without a rider was dangerously weak. Except for Smaug clearly even though he too had fallen by the shot of a single man.

Daenerys landed with Drogon and he’d never seen a sight more beautiful, the white coat and the silver hair, she was perfection in a world of chaos. He jumped and twisted around the mindless bodies that swarmed them until he reached her. 

“Meleth-nin!” He breathed out when their eyes locked together. She smiled in relief. “Get on!” She said as Rhaegal breathed fire all over the dead armies and Drogon did the same to keep the wights at bay. 

He turned from her and called out to his companions. “Come on!” He grabbed his bow again and covered their retreat, letting them get on first. Ser Jorah, Tormund, Beric, the Hound, the captured wight, only Jon and himself were missing. Legolas himself was about to get on when he saw Jon fight his way towards the Night King. 

“Jon! What are you doing? Get back here!” He called for him but he was a man on a mission and Legolas knew how dumb men on a mission could be. He ran after him and he grabbed him by the neck to drag him towards Drogon, kicking at the wights. 

“Now get on!” He yelled at him. He got on alright after he’d raised his voice at him. With a jump Legolas was on behind Daenerys, and she was already airborne. But Legolas’ sight didn’t fail him when he saw that king from Morgoth grab an ice spear and point it at Drogon. Legolas quicker than sight shot an arrow at the White Walker handing it to him, hoping to startle them enough for them to get out of here. Rhaegal had already left and now they had to leave as well. 

The arrow met its mark and the Walker broke into a thousand pieces, some of the wights falling with it. The Night King stared up and his eyes were bright as they met Legolas’, the thing smirked at him and threw the ice spear at them. Legolas cried out in warning. “Swerve, Daenerys, now!” The spear grazed Drogon’s hide and the poor dragon shrieked in pain. Almost throwing them off himself. 

“Valad, Drogon!” Daenerys yelled and with great pain the dragon flew upwards and onwards towards the Wall, but not before Legolas caught another look at the Night King’s smirking face. 


	5. The Queen’s husband can tell when Cersei lies

Cersei had no idea why she had agreed to this useless meeting. She should be having them all blown up and be done with it, but alas she had thought that perhaps it would be entertaining hearing them beg her for whatever it is they wanted. 

She entered the Dragon Pit and found them all seated, such disrespect that they wouldn’t get up for her. She had Jaime by her side and unluckily Euron Greyjoy as well, she kept her eyes forward all the time and sat down, scanning their faces for the silver hair of the Targaryen bitch and trying to figure out to whom she had whored herself out. 

Cersei remembered when she learned of her second marriage, it was said the nobles of Meereen were angry that she had married a foreigner and not one of them, but nobody really knew anything about her husband, although it was said he was as beautiful as her, not handsome, but beautiful. 

Cersei would have to see for herself, she couldn’t deny she was curious, but she was growing impatient by the Targaryen girl, she was late and from the faces she saw so was her husband because none of the people there would ever be considered as beautiful.

Perhaps only her Jaime with his golden hair.

“Where is she?” She asked pointedly to her little monster of a brother, who was wearing the pin of hand proudly. 

“She’ll be here soon.”

Cersei wanted to scoff, this was ridiculous. But before she could think anything else a loud roar shook the ground, and Cersei moved forward in her seat to stare at the ginormous black beast that landed on the Dragon Pit, Balerion the Black Dread reborn, the dragon was carrying two small figures on its back. 

Both fair haired.

The first figure flipped off from the dragon and landed as gracefully as a leaf, with long light blond hair, ivory skin, silver attire and an ornamented bow with a full quiver on his back. 

He held out a hand to the second figure, silver hair, short stature and a dark dress. 

The dragon queen and her husband.

They walked arm in arm towards them and Cersei managed to keep her mouth from opening at the sight of her husband. He seemed to be glowing from how utterly ethereal he was. Cersei had never seen someone so beautiful, not even herself, the exotic dragon queen was nothing but plain next to this man who couldn’t be described as anything less but perfect, even if Cersei hated to admit it. 

All of their people, including the bastard King in the North stood up for them. That was interesting. She would laugh if he had bent the knee to the Mad King’s daughter contrary to what his traitor of a father had done.

After they took their time, because apparently they cared not for hers, the two were seated, and the dark skinned girl stepped forward. 

“You stand in the presence of Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen. The First of her Name, Rightful Heir to the Iron Throne, Rightful Queen of the Andals and the First Men, Protector of the Realm, The Mother of Dragons, The Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, The Unburnt, The Breaker of Chains, and of Legolas Thranduillion, Crown Prince of the Woodland Realm of Eryn Galen, Member of the Fellowship of the Ring and King Consort of the Seven Kingdoms.”

“You’re late.” Cersei remarked in displeasure, trying to ignore the countless, useless titles. She stared at the Targaryen bitch coldly but she seemed unfazed by this. Her husband turned to her and Cersei still couldn’t believe a man that beautiful existed, those eyes could only exist amongst the gods... what was it with him that had her so mesmerized? 

“Apologies.” He said and Cersei couldn’t help but think that even his voice was perfect. 

Just then the imbecile Greyjoy started insulting his nephew and her monster of a brother when he stood up. She had to shut him off. The ironborn was such a menace, she couldn’t stand him even one bit, but at least he did what she wanted and she was entertained by him when he thought she didn’t know of his plan to kill her and then get the crown.

Fool.

She was the smartest person she knew, the queen of the Seven Kingdoms, if he thought he could get rid of her that easily, he had one coming. She’d dispose of him soon enough.

The silly traitors started telling her of monsters and whatnot beyond the Wall. Children’s tale. And she wasn’t surprised the foolish dragon Queen had believed them, she had her own children’s tales creatures under her command, why wouldn’t she believe these fools? 

Cersei wasn’t her, she was way smarter.

So she let them talk, but then, they showed it to her. It wasn’t until she’d seen it that she’d understood, yet as scared as she wouldn’t admit she had been in the eye of that horrid thing launching itself towards her, this was a perfect opportunity for her, these monsters could kill all of the dragon bitch’s army and then everything would be easier for herself, she’d allow them the truce they wanted because it was in her best interest to keep those creatures far from King’s Landing, yet she could tell them she’d give them her army and then don’t send anything at all, just to mess with them. 

So that’s exactly what she did. 

“You’re lying.” Suddenly that smooth and calm voice resounded over the place. “You won’t send any army to the north.” Cersei was so shocked she couldn’t react. No one had ever called her out on a lie. Not her.

“Who do you think you are to say the queen is lying?” Jaime came to her defense but even he sounded unsure. 

He smirked. “I can hear her heart beating. I know when someone’s not telling the truth, Ser Jaime.” Her twin frowned at his vague answer and Cersei’s silent reaction of surprise had probably given away the fact that she’d truly been lying.

They were all bewildered even a part of their party hadn’t seem to know about it. Now Cersei didn’t know what to do.

“Well?” The dragon queen prodded and Cersei glared at her once more. 

“I will not risk my armies for people that declared another as their ruler and I won’t risk it for a Targaryen. If the King in the North swears fealty to me right now I’ll send my armies.” This time she was telling the truth, how humiliating would it be for the bastard of Ned Stark to have to kneel to a Lannister. 

“I cannot do that, for the North is already under queen Daenerys and king Legolas’ command.” Cersei could have scoffed at the bastard if she hadn’t wanted to maintain her regality. Useless idiot. If he’d lied she wouldn’t have know because the pretty king wouldn’t have said anything.

“Then, there’s nothing more to discuss.” With that she stood up, Kingsguard in tow, and left the Dragon Pit, back to the Red Keep she’d go and wouldn’t leave anymore. Every time she left something bad happened, and after that she didn’t want to see the people of King’s Lamdimg ever again, except for when they looked like ants from her window. 

And even Jaime’s pleading hadn’t make her change her mind. They could die for all she cared, the three dragons would take care of the dead monsters.


	6. Difficult introductions in the North

  
The North was beautiful, but he was getting tired of the people that inhabited it. 

Legolas was this close to shooting an arrow at someone. The glares these people sent their way were absolutely unbelievable. They were coming to save them not conquer them. Ugh, the race of men were the worst of all races.

“I warned you...” Jon said from beside Daenerys. “The North doesn’t much trust outsiders.” Legolas actually scoffed at that.

“With how they look at us, I’d believe we were torturing them.” Daenerys was very discouraged he knew. She was hoping for a warm greeting, finally meeting the people of one of her kingdoms, getting to see them. Instead they were glaring at her and even though her face remained impassive he knew she was saddened by their attitude.

“Don’t worry, melethenin. They’re just stubborn. After we’ve saved them they’ll change.” He told her and squeezed her hand. She smiled at him. “I hope you’re right, Legolas.” He himself hoped he was.

Soon they were upon Wintertown and next they were entering the courtyard of Winterfell where a small crowd was waiting to welcome them. And what a welcome! More grim faces and more hostile expressions. 

Jon went first, to greet his redheaded sister and who Legolas assumed was his long-lost brother. When he had greeted them Daenerys looked at him and they both stepped forward, side by side. People whispered and Legolas wondered if it was because he wasn’t leaving footprints on the snow while Daenerys was.

“Queen Daenerys Targaryen and King Legolas Thranduillion.” He said when they were before his sister. Legolas already disliked the girl. She had a sneer like expression when she looked down at his short wife, yet when her eyes moved to him, they widened, although she tried to hide it. 

“My sister, the Lady of Winterfell, Sansa Stark.”

“Thank you for welcoming us into your home, Lady Stark.” Daenerys smiled sweetly and he couldn’t help but feel that her compliments would fall on deaf, arrogant ears. “The North is as beautiful as your brother claimed, as are you.” Sansa Stark looked from her to him staying on him a second longer.

“Winterfell is yours, your graces.” Her face was a sneer and Legolas was sure his assessment of her was right. He knew Daenerys was taken aback by that reply. Legolas wanted to tell her off, but he knew it wasn’t the moment, although even if he’d wanted to he was interrupted by the quiet boy in the strange chair.

“You’re not from here.” He said. He turned to look at Legolas and his expression reminded him of when King Theoden was under Saruman’s control, as if he was not himself. “You’re from far away... you shouldn’t be alive, you’re too old.” 

Legolas was unsettled by the little boy outing him in front of everyone, and perhaps Jon noticed and he told the lords to reunite in the Great Hall and that they would join them soon enough. 

“What do you mean Bran?” The girl, Sansa, asked her brother. He looked wary now as he stared at Legolas. “He can’t be older than twenty five name days.” Legolas actually laughed, and so did Daenerys.

“Your brother is right, Lady Stark. On your standards I’m too old.” He said amused. 

The boy wasn’t though. “He knows what you are and that you’re here. He’s coming quicker than we thought because of it.”

“You mean the Night King?” Daenerys asked him, her voice unwavering. The boy nodded at her. Jon ran a hand through his face, the man looked always so tired. “You mean to tell us that he’s going to come faster because he knows what my husband is?”

“He saw him North of the Wall. He is scared and that’s good. I thought I would be what he wanted, but now he wants him.” Legolas felt uncomfortable, but not more than the redheaded Lady of Winterfell who’s face was growing an unsettled expression.

“Would someone care to explain to me what he is, in the first place?” Legolas sighed. He had no idea how many times he’d given this explanation since he’d arrived in Qarth and later on Westeros. It would have been so much easier if they’d had some of his people in this place too.

“I am an elf, my lady. Another race, if you will, we are immortal, and swifter than the race of men.” She nodded warily, looking him up and down. “And I meant that your brother was right because I am indeed more than 3.000 years old.”

“3.000 you say?” He nodded. Daenerys cut her next question though. 

“How does he mean to cross the Wall?” 

“He was planning on shooting down your dragon, but he was not expecting him.” A pointed look in his direction. “Now, he will bring the whole Wall down, with the Horn of Winter.”

“Then we get ready to fight.” Jon said, more convinced than he’d seen him since he’d bent the knee to both him and Daenerys. Legolas had felt a strange sensation when he’d declared him his king. He knew he’d always been royalty, but being a prince of Eryn Galen was much different from being King of the Seven Kingdoms, even if it was as a consort. As king, he thought of his father often, wondering if he knew that he hadn’t reached the Undying Lands, if he himself had decided to sail too, if there were no more elves in Middle Earth...

“We must address the lords.” Lady Stark declared. “They will not be happy to know you’ve given the North to another.” From the tone in which she said it Legolas gathered she wasn’t happy about it either, but something about her gave him pause. She was cold and arrogant but like her brother she had deep sorrow in her, yet she decided to be angry about it, not sullen like him.

He didn’t like her one bit.

———

And Legolas had thought dwarves were loud... all his years with Gimli hadn’t prepared him to the mayhem that greeted them when they addressed the northern lords.

Yet in all of the voices there was a voice that outshone them all, found in the most unexpected of places. The little Lady Mormont, if he was correct, Ser Jorah’s cousin.

“We named you King in the North.” She was telling Jon and Legolas thought she would have gotten along with Tauriel. Never scared of speaking her mind. 

“And it was the honor of my life, my lady. But I told you before I left that we needed allies or we would die. I brought those allies.” He was met with silence and Tyrion was about to step forward, but Legolas threw him a pointed look that shut down his intent. Instead he looked towards Daenerys and saw her nod, she knew it was for the best if Tyrion didn’t speak, Lannisters were even more hated than Targaryens in the North. 

Legolas stood up and he immediately had everyone’s attention. ‘Perks of being an elf in the midst of men’ he thought. “I know you don’t trust us, my lords and ladies. But the queen and I have only come here to help you. I fought with Jon Snow north of the Wall, and I understand what’s coming for us, we had pledged our forces to fight for the North without the need of his pledge, yet the man you chose as your king knows what’s best for you, and he bent the knee of his own free will, because my wife and I proved to him that we would be good rulers and that we’d protect you. Now I ask you to give us the same chance, to let you see that we do not mean you any harm and that the north’s and everyone’s well being is our first priority.” 

He turned to look towards Daenerys and she had a small smile that was creeping up her face. Yet Jon’s grim look was as bad as it’d been when they were swarmed by wights. The red headed lady was completely stunned, as were most of the lords, the astonishment was wearing off and rage was coming up on their faces.

“Of his own free will you say?” A big man asked enraged and Legolas frowned. Had he said something out of order? “You’re saying that you would have let us keep our independence if it weren’t for him?”

Legolas thought he understood now, but all the noice of mixing voices was making him dizzy. 

Jon had stood up now and was trying to quiet them down. Legolas tried to think what would his father do? What would Aragorn do? What would Lady Galadriel or Lord Elrond do for that matter? They had it easier, the people of Middle Earth were more civilized than those of Westeros, but still they were all people in a position of power, they would know how to deal with this. He had to figure it out too...

Tyrion was trying to quiet them, Daenerys had a pensive expression on her face, as if she was contemplating what had led her to find herself in this situation, she hadn’t spoken a lot in their presence, she knew they would rebuff anything she said because of her family history, so she just observed, Legolas had had enough though.

“Silence!” His voice carried out throughout all the hall strangely, considering how soft spoken most elves were, everyone immediately quieted down, wether it was from shock he didn’t know but he’d take the chance.

“You are all a bunch of disrespectful lot... you chose Jon Snow as your king and now you’re throwing him to the wolves. Does his opinion matter so little to you?” They remained quiet and Legolas realized he had their attention.“He refused to kneel before my wife in respect to you, because he had your best interests in mind even when he knew you needed our armies and now you treat him like dirt under your boots.” He walked from around the table, his feet never making a sound. He felt himself so out of place with his light clothes when even Daenerys wore a coat of heavy white fur. 

“I do not know what you’ve been taught, but I studied all of the kingdoms before coming here and I can assure you that after all that the North has suffered you can’t afford independence and my wife is heir to seven kingdoms not six, so even if he hadn’t kneeled the north would have been conquered,” he pointed back at Jon who had his usual sullen expression. “He saw this and you will have to see this, for your own good.” 

“Are you threatening us, boy?” Another one of the lords jumped up from his seat followed by some grumbling agreement. “I will not hear this nonsense. I’m taking my men back to Deepwood Motte and you can fight your dead army without me.” 

The man was almost at the door when the arrow flew by his ear. He heard the far away sound of unsheathing swords, but Legolas’ face remained impassive as he answered. “I was not finished talking and you will sit and listen to what I had to say because next time the arrow will find its mark.” He was growing red in fury and he opened his mouth to probably curse him, but Legolas interrupted him. “That is a threat. See the difference?” He turned around and sat back again, everyone was looking completely bewildered and Daenerys took that moment to address them, they always did work better together.

“Forgive my husband for his harsh manner, but he is right. Jon Snow has had your best interests at heart during all the negotiation of our alliance.” She stood up as well, her tone was commanding even if her stature was short. “We have come to aid you and protect the North. But if you do not want our help we can take our armies and leave.” Legolas was in agreement, this people were awfully rude.

“Your grace, there’s no need for that.” Jon stepped forward quickly and so did Ser Davos. “If you would allow me to discuss with the lords of the North, and to explain everything to them...” Legolas stood up then and went around the table over to Daenerys. She nodded at Jon and motioned towards her advisors to follow.

“You do that, Lord Snow. Because as willing as we are to help you, we don’t have to stand disrespect from anyone.” She declared and like that they strode from the hall. But not before Legolas caught the mumbles of the lord of Deepwood Motte. “I’ll teach that weakling not to threaten me.”

Legolas smirked at that and a most ungraceful snort came out of him. His melethenin looked at him, one eyebrow raised in question. “Oh melethenin, these northerners are worst than anything I’ve encountered before.” She smiled too and chuckled. She grabbed his hand and squeezed.

“I was so proud of you in there, my love.” She whispered to him as she stopped. Motioning for her advisors to disperse. She linked her arms around his neck and went on her toes to kiss him. He kissed her back and caressed her back as he did so. He’d lived for so long yet he’d never experienced a better feeling than having her in his arms.

“Perhaps we should look for a more private place, don’t you think melethenin?” He told her when they broke their kiss, their foreheads resting together for a moment. But she moved away with a smirk.

“Oh no, my love. You’re going to eavesdrop on everything they’re saying in there.” Legolas laughed merrily and stole another kiss from her before he set himself up somewhere he could listen in and keep from sight. 

She would be the death of him.


	7. The Queen’s husband talks to trees and horses

  
Arya had been sneaking around Winterfell, trying to catch anything from the new arrivals. She’d seen them arrive, the queen and her husband and Jon... oh how she’d longed to hug Jon but he was still in that stupid meeting with the stubborn northern lords. Arya was tired of them, they were a bunch of worthless buffoons.

She’d decided to relax for a while in the quietest place she knew of. 

The Godswood.

Just like her father had done. She didn’t believe in the old gods anymore, because there was only one god, and his name was Death, but still she liked the quiet and the familiarity of sitting around the Heart Tree.

She was as quiet as mice, light on her feet as she noticed the figure standing before the tree, looking as if they were inspecting it. Long, perfect, blonde hair and a green light attire that should have them shivering. Arya realized with a start that this was the Dragon Queen’s husband. 

She turned around to leave, she didn’t want to have a conversation with that man, although he did intrigue her. 

She had never been like Sansa entranced by pretty knights and princes, yet Arya couldn’t deny how beautiful he was, he seemed to glow as if a godly light swirled around him wherever he went. The Dragon Queen was a beautiful woman she saw, but Arya would dare say that her husband was even more beautiful. 

As the snow crunched lightly under her weight she felt the tip of an arrow pointed behind her. “You step so loudly over the snow I could have shot you in the dark.” Arya’s hand had gone instinctively to Needle, even as she wondered how he had reached her so fast and how she hadn’t even heard him move. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you. You would die before your stroke fell.”

“I’m quick.” She said, before twisting away, only to find a short sword pressed to her neck. 

He smirked at her. “I’m quicker.” Arya was sure he couldn’t be real. His face from up close was even more perfect than the rest of him. “Now tell me, my lady, who are you?”

“I’m not a lady, I’m Arya Stark.” He nodded and his grip loosened, Arya stepped back from him. 

“You’re Jon’s sister, the one Gendry talked about.” Arya tried to keep her expression unfazed but the mention of him was too much for her. She immediately asked about it. 

“You know him?”

“Why, of course. He went with us beyond the Wall and he’s the reason we all came back, he ran miles and miles to get a message to the queen.” He told her and Arya felt something like pride flood her chest. She half smiled, still thinking of when she’d seen him riding in with them. She wanted to go talk to him soon.

“You’re the Queen’s husband.” Arya stated. He nodded with a small radiant smile.

“Legolas Thranduillion at your service.” She looked him up and down, he didn’t look like a king, well, certainly not like the king she had seen, but he had an air of normality, he didn’t seem like a pompous ass like Joffrey instead he almost gave her the feeling of a commoner, even if it was clear he wasn’t. He was very tall she noticed, and he wore clothes of forest green and browns, from his boots to his too light cloak he dressed not like a king. 

This intrigued her even more.

He turned away from her and walked back towards the weirwood. “Come Arya Stark, I’d like to ask you something, if it’s alright with you.”

She followed because she too had things she wanted answered and because she felt a strange sensation to do so. How was he so quick? Wasn’t he cold? And why the fuck wasn’t he leaving footprints on the snow?

“Tell me, what is the story behind these weirwood trees. I’ve wanted to learn about the nature in Westeros for some time but there are not many books in Essos about it, and I’ve asked them but they do not want to answer me.” Arya was confused by that. The trees didn’t want to answer? Since when did they answer at all? Maybe he had a different faith? Like the red priestess that worshipped fire, maybe he talked to trees. Still, it baffled her.

“It’s a Heart Tree,” she said plainly. “A weirwood that’s been carved... the faces were carved by the Children of the Forest thousand of years ago, and it is said that the Old gods watch us through the eyes, that’s why this place it’s called a Godswood.”

“And why are they only found in the North?”

“Because the faith of the Seven cut down all the Heart Trees south of the Isle of Faces, apparently their new gods had commanded them to do so.” He seemed to think about that for a moment.

“Thank you.” He said with a pleased expression, and turned back towards the tree. 

“I’d like to ask you some questions.” She didn’t bother saying if he was alright with it. She would get her answers. “How are you so quick and quiet?”

He chuckled and it was as if the birds themselves were singing, he was much too perfect for her liking, she had to find so,etching to be suspicious of, no one was perfect. “The race of men has always so many questions!” Arya wasn’t sure what that meant but she’d find out. “I am an elf and that’s just part of my abilities as such.”

“An elf? Never heard that one before...” she let out in a huff. Everything had gotten so complicated since she’d gotten home, White Walkers, wights, and now whatever he was. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Think of it as another race... you have wolves and direwolves, that’s a little like men and elves. Two different species that are similar enough with each other.” She nods uncertainly though, still not sure what to make of it. He looked normal enough apart from the ethereal beauty she’d never seen on anyone before. “Look at my ears, for example.” Just then she’d noticed that his ears weren’t like hers. They were normal enough, except for the pointy ends that made them seem longer. 

“So, since you’re an elf, that’s why you don’t leave footprints on the snow and you’re not cold and you’re so swift and you... talk to trees?” She confirmed. He nodded in agreement. 

“Yes.” He chuckled. “Although trees in Westeros are different, but the horses like to talk to me.” She hid her surprise at the last statement. Gaining back her composure.

“But are there elves in Essos? I never heard about your kind. Not even in books.” He shook his head at her.   
  
“I’m not of this lands nor of the lands to the East.” Arya’s interest was immediately peaked. She wanted to know what was west of Westeros, no one had ever reported it, she wanted to be the first, but maybe that’s where he came from. “I come from a far away land called Arda, or Middle Earth.”

“And where is it?” She asked eagerly. “Is it west of Westeros? How do you get there?” He seemed amused by her behavior, and she realized she was indeed behaving like a little girl once more. So she calmed down a little.

“If I knew the answer to your questions I probably would have gone a long time ago, and I would have taken my wife with me. Westeros and Essos are plagued by war and death, I do not want this for her.” He admitted sincerely. Arya realized that she liked his style, he had a very peaceful attitude to everything, even if she thought that war was necessary. 

She and her family had been wronged too many times in her life to give up on her quest for revenge, but perhaps peace like he described it would have been nice, before she became a Faceless Man and killer. 

“Alright. This has probably been the strangest conversation I’ve had in a long time.” She sighed and he laughed at that. 

“I can understand that. There have never been elves amongst your kin, unfortunately, it would come as quite a shock to some.” He confessed, a bit of melancholy escaping in his tone as he twiddled with his bow that, just now Arya noticed, was absolutely stunning. 

It had such beautiful engravings on it and the material looked sturdy, yet flexible enough to shoot far distances. He caught her admiring it and smiled, although his face seemed to be reminiscing. As if the bow brought him good memories. “It’s a bow of the Galadhrim. Made by my kin from Lothlórien. It was a gift, a great weapon.” 

He handed it to her and she could feel how beautiful it truly was, she admired more closely and then gave it back. He seemed to appreciate that. “A great weapon indeed, it’s beautiful, your grace.”

He laughed. “Oh, lady Arya!” She frowned and he noticed. Now she understood he’d said it on purpose. 

He smirked slightly at her. “No ‘your grace’ and no ‘lady’.” He told her. She nodded in agreement.

After a little bit of small talk and the arrangement of having a sparring session, they both retired, but Arya felt different from how she’d felt before the conversation with the elf and king Legolas Thranduillion. Lighter somehow. She didn’t know how to explain it, but whatever it was she liked it. 

It almost made her feel like she was carefree and young once more.

Like she could hope that peace would come one day.


	8. A dream of great worry

Legolas was tired. So he thought this night he’d tried to actually sleep and regain his energy for the next few days. He was hoping for a peaceful rest, with Daenerys by his side. Yet that didn’t come, instead he dreamt, or was it something else? Anyhow, he had a visitor in whatever it was.

“Mithrandir.” He said when he saw the white glowing man he’d called friend. “Gandalf.”

“Hello Legolas Greenleaf.” It had been so long since he’d heard his voice, since that first time he’d seen him after the shipwreck, when he’d told him he wouldn’t be going to Valinor any time soon, contrary to what he’d told him in Fangorn. Legolas was very content with whatever this was in any case, although he wished Gimli or Aragorn could be there. “We do not have much time, but I bring you news that you may take as you want. Wether they are good or bad it is for you to decide.” 

“Tell me, Mithrandir, and I shall make my own opinion.” He told him assuredly. Now intrigued by what he had to say. 

“The last of your kindred has left Middle-Earth. No more will elves dwell in Eryn Lasgalen, Lothlórien or Imladris. It is the age of men now. Yet it does not mean it is the end of the elves’ duty to care for the world.” He said and Legolas found himself nodding with every word. So his father had finally gone to Valinor, Legolas thought he never would. “Even if it is this other world.”

“I thank you for these news, Gandalf. I shall treasure the knowledge that my kin is at peace in Valinor now.” But Gandalf chuckled at that. 

“Oh no, Legolas Greenleaf. They are not in Valinor. They are shipwrecked.” Legolas blinked and he felt the edges of this strange mystical plain start to darken, as if dissolving.

“No... no... no...” he said. “Is my father alright? Tell me where my father is, Gandalf! Tell me!” He exclaimed desperately. He remembered how disconcerted he’d felt after the shipwreck, he didn’t want any of his kin to go through that. Least of all his father who tended to be a bit dramatic about everything.

“Where the dowager keeps vigil, there you will find the last elven king and his entourage.” Legolas was confused, but he didn’t have time to consider it because his vision turned focused again and he was up, jumping out of the warm bed. Daenerys sitting up in a fright as well. 

“Legolas, what’s wrong?” She asked with concern, her eyes seemed tired but alert to any danger that could be at hand. Her hair was curled in the most beautiful of ways and her eyes kept darting around the room. Like violet rays of starlight.

“I’ve seen him again.” He told her, probably grimly enough that she frowned. 

“You mean, uh- Gandalf, Mithrandir?” He nodded and her sleepiness drew away. She knew that he couldn’t have told him anything but something important. “What did he tell you, melethenin, you’re as pale as the snow, has something bad happened?”

“Remember when you said you would have liked to meet my father?” He told her as he tried to keep himself without pacing. She seemed disconcerted by that question but nodded all the same. He let out a huff, steeling himself. “Well, you might just get to meet him.”

———

  
“Where the dowager keeps vigil...” he whispered to himself as he went to look for Jon by morning. He had no idea of what Gandalf meant by that, but perhaps a map and a northerner would help him. He found the man in question practicing with a dummy, hitting and slashing as if it were his worst enemy. He seemed frustrated by something. He’d ask later.

As usual Legolas arrived silently and when Jon saw him he almost jumped in surprise.

“You keep sneaking up on me, why?” He asked with a sigh, and Legolas just gave him a little grin. 

“Because it’s fun to see your reaction each time.” He chuckled. “But alas, it is not for that for which I have come. I bear news that while they are not ill, I am still uncertain if they should be considered good.”

“Well, out with it then.” Jon told him firmly. Eager to know, perhaps to prepare himself for the worst. Although Legolas thought he’d be happy to have more fighters against the dead. Specially fighters as good as the elven kind.

“I’ve been told that I am no longer the only elf in Westeros.” Jon seemed confused by this. Certainly expecting something else. “But I have not been able to decipher their location. Does ‘where the dowager keeps vigil’ mean anything to you?” 

He seemed to think about it for a moment before his eyes widened in recognition. “‘The dowager keeps vigil’ can only be one place. Widow’s Watch.” Legolas thought about it and it did make sense.

“Well, then. I’ll be leaving as soon as possible.” Legolas said. “Thank you for your help, Jon.” With that he turned around, but Jon grabbed his shoulder, stopping him.

“I’ll come with you, I’ll tell Lord Flint, the Lord of Widow’s Watch, to accompany us as well.” He said. Legolas was about to deny, he would have preferred to explain everything to his father on his own, without men to anger him just with their presence, not for naught did he never leave Eryn Lasgalen. 

Legolas had denied Daenerys’ offer of going on dragonback because that would not be a good first impression for his father who had a bit of a history with dragons.

“I do not know how good an idea that is...” he said carefully. “If it is true, and I have no reason to doubt my source, you will meet my father, and he is...” Legolas didn’t know what to say if he was being truthful, how does one describe the Elven-king of Eryn Lasgalen? “One of a kind.” He decided on, Jon could interpret that as he wanted. Legolas was sure he’d be surprised from whatever he could imagine anyway. 

“Well, your father is a king, is he not?” A nod. “Well then, it does not surprise me. Even less so if he is clearly older than you.” Legolas was surprised how good Jon had taken the news. Perhaps he’d needed it to lift his spirits after lashing out at that poor training dummy, it wasn’t everyday you got the news of having warriors as good as elven ones in your army. Although if his father even agreed to help it would be under his terms entirely, of this Legolas was as sure as his love for Daenerys.

“I’m sure it can’t be that bad and I can’t let you go alone, you don’t know these lands.” He explained. “But it’s your father, how different from you could he be?” Oh Jon! Legolas thought. He had no clue of what was coming. “We depart after breaking our fast. It’s not that far to Widow’s Watch. I’d say it’s about a week of hard riding.” 

Legolas sighed. That was too slow but it would have to do. With a nod they parted ways. He’d see his father soon enough and would have a lot on his plate, for his father was not an easy person to please or to stand. 

Yet inside himself, he did long to see him well, in the life of an elf it wasn’t very long since he’d last seen him. When he left Middle Earth they’d been in good terms,, even so, their relationship had always been strained, for as he’d told Jon, King Thranduil Oropherion was not an easy elf to either please nor to endear.


	9. King Thranduil is not impressed by this... ice

Finally they reached Widow’s Watch, a frozen land to the Shivering Sea, surrounded by ice and a chill breeze, a wild beauty accompanied the old castle, the seat of House Flint of Widow’s Watch. 

Legolas had gotten to know Lord Flint and he’d thought him a simple enough man, although one who was highly suspicious of him. 

The castle was mostly deserted, having most of their people in Winterfell, preparing for the upcoming battle. It wasn’t luxurious but it was clean and tidy enough. Legolas had gone in with Jon and gone right out. He had to scout the area for any signs of a shipwreck or of a camp made by elves somewhere in the frozen tundra. 

Legolas rode and rode, using his elvish sight to scout further, yet he didn’t see anything, but soon enough his ears picked up something. Just the quietest of sounds that only an elf could pick up and that told him he was not alone. He dismounted and walked towards the small clearing hidden behind chunks of ice. And just as he did he had his bow pointed at another elf. One he recognized at that. Tirtondír, one of his father’s guards.

“Tirtondír.”

“My prince Legolas?” He lowered his bow and bowed with wide eyes as if he could not believe it. As soon as he said that, others made themselves known, bowing and whispering and Legolas felt great relief to be among his kin once more. “You’re here?”

“I was told you had a problem similar to mine. As you can probably tell this is not Valinor. We’re not in Arda either.” He informed him. “But I was hoping to talk to my father, first.” Legolas felt incredibly nervous about that but he didn’t let it show.

“I’m sure the king will be very happy. I believe he’s missed you, my lord.” Legolas would be surprised if that was the case. He knew his father loved him, in his own way... but he wasn’t a very sentimental person. “Follow me.”

They walked a short distance, before they came up to a camp. They went to a tent that Legolas was surprised didn’t seem the slightest bit damaged by a shipwreck, as he was about to enter he took a deep breath. He was actually really nervous about seeing his father again. 

The flap of the tent was held by Tirtondír as Legolas stepped through and caught a glimpse of his father’s long hair. He was turned away but when he heard someone come in he turned and now they were face to face.

“Legolas.” He said. His eyes betrayed him, slightly widened in surprise, certainly he was the last person he imagined seeing. “You’re- you’re here?”

“Yes, adar.” Legolas said and in that moment he felt like a little boy once more. Wanting to please his father and have him be proud of him. His father stepped forward, towards him, very slowly. Legolas placed his hand on his chest in traditional greeting, but his father stepped even closer and hugged him. It was so quick a hug that to anyone else he could have just been standing too close yet Legolas hadn’t expected one and it was a pleasant surprise, considering it wasn’t used amongst his kindred.

“How are you here?” He asked now stepping away, keeping them at the distance they used to have whenever they spoke to each other. “I expect that you know where we are, certainly not in Valinor, with all this... ice.” His father wasn’t wearing any armor with his silver robes and his circlet, but he looked ready to get attacked any moment and if the trunk he had nearby was anything to go by Legolas was sure he had his armor with him, although he wouldn’t have to worry. The warriors that could come upon them in Westeros were no match for their elven ones. 

“Indeed we’re not.” He agreed. “Mithrandir warned me of your unfortunate arrival, much like mine.” His father stared interested, curious even. 

“Mithrandir? What else has he told you?” Legolas paced along the tent, not wanting to stay still in a single place.

“He brought me news when I arrived to this land about seven years pass.” He told him. “And now he’s brought news of your arrival, news of Middle-Earth at last, no more elves dwell in Arda, yet he’s said that we are still needed before going to Valinor.” 

“And pray tell, whatever for are we needed in this... place?” He didn’t hide his distaste for his current location. Nothing less than Eryn Lasgalen would suffice for him and in his eyes nothing surpassed his adored Eryn Lasgalen. “What is this place, exactly?”

“Westeros.” He said without hesitation. “It is a strange land, I’ll warn you. Never had they heard of elves before me and they live in a continuous power struggle between these powerful Houses.” Thranduil nodded in understanding.

“And what have you been doing during your stay?” He raised an eyebrow in question. Legolas turned away from him, this is what he’d been expecting and dreading.

“Well, I’ve gotten...” he began with his back still to his father. “married.” He whispered but his father would hear him nonetheless. He confirmed as much with the silence that followed. 

Not a sound came from him and Legolas had to turn and see his face.

“You have a... wife?” He said in an incredibly low voice, Legolas could only nod. “A mortal wife?” Another careful nod. “And what mortal woman has managed to conquer the heart of my son after such a long time?” A deep calming breath.

“Queen Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen.” He said with affection. This wasn’t unnoticed by his father. 

“And you believe you really love this woman?” He asked with slight distaste. “Are you willing to die for your love?” He was reminded of Tauriel then, his father had asked her the same question and now Legolas would give him the same answer.

“Yes.” A nod came from his father, telling him they would discuss this at a later time.

“Now, do tell me, Legolas, why have we been stranded in this lurid, frozen setting?” Legolas went on to retell in a short account what had happened since he’d arrived, meeting Daenerys in Qarth, staying beside her during her conquest of the now Dragon’s Bay, his father had raised question at the name and he’d explained to him her ancestry, telling him about how she became the Mother of Dragons.

“Sounds like quite a woman.” Yet it did not sound like a compliment would. He knew his father was absolutely displeased, just the fact she was mortal was enough to make him unwilling to like her, although Legolas thought he would like her once he met her.

“She’s wanted to meet you since I first told her about you.” Legolas told him. His father had always been full of himself, and recalling that was usually the way to gain his affection. 

After, he told him of all that he knew had happened in Westeros while he’d been with Daenerys, until present time, ending with their arrival at Winterfell and the dead army. 

“Dead army? Legolas, you’re telling me that my calm travels to Valinor after so much careful deliberation, have been disturbed by the need of mortal men against an army that from what you tell me are mindless, rotting corpses?” Legolas had half a mind not to answer but that would certainly offend his father. “What a waste of my time.”

“I do not know why the Valar have chosen to put us here, adar. But I will be forever grateful to them for allowing me to meet my wife and I shall be forever grateful to you, if she gets to live another day by helping the armies of men with our people.” Legolas spoke as truthful as ever, he knew they could win, but he also knew that Daenerys’ armies would be the most affected and thus so would be his wife. He knew how much she cared for the wellbeing of her people and he didn’t want her to have to mourn them. The wights weren’t difficult to kill for elves that had encountered worst foes, yet for men...

His father seemed to consider for what might seem like a long while to a mortal, not so long for an elf, but then he said, “I shall not refuse you, Legolas, for I see you’re most convinced and we might yet go to Valinor after accomplishing whatever this is if Mithrandir is to be believed. As long as you get me out of this awful place, that is, I do hope you won’t have me in this conditions if I help you.” Legolas was so relieved to hear that, yet his worries did not end there. 

No, his worries were far from over, now it was time for his father to meet his first westerosi, a man who could not be more different than him. 

Jon Snow.

“Do not worry, you shall receive the very best, adar.”


	10. The most synchronized army ever beheld

Jon was incredibly amazed. 

The sight in front of him was completely bewildering, the might of the small army and the glow that came with it was absolutely stunning. Never before had he been glad to see an army marching towards him. He had to hand it to Legolas, he found his father quicker than Jon could have thought possible in the conditions of Widow’s Watch. 

“You didn’t tell me it was an army we came to pick up, your grace.” Lord Flint said from beside him. Jon had half a mind to correct him and say he wasn’t a king anymore. Yet that would be a lie, for Sam had told him a hard truth, he was not the son of Ned Stark, but of Rhaegar Targaryen and Lyanna Stark. 

He was born Jaehaerys Targaryen and Daenerys was the last of his family on his sire’s side. That had been a lot to take in, even more so knowing that most people were displeased by his decision to bend the knee, yet he didn’t want the power of his newfound birthright. 

When he’d chose to kneel for her, Jon knew it had been the right choice. She as well as Legolas would be great rulers for the whole of the Seven Kingdoms. Legolas had saved him on more than one occasion during the wight search and then Daenerys had saved them all with incredible courage, risking her life and her dragons for them. They were what the realm needed for peace.

He hadn’t told anyone about his true identity, but he would soon tell Daenerys and Legolas, he would reassure them he did not want the throne and that they could have it. He had no doubt that if he looked like a threat to Daenerys no matter how friendly he was, Legolas would dispose of him as soon as he could say ‘wait’ if not sooner.

“I did not know for sure it would be an army.” He answered after a long while. They were near now, two distinguishable figures on horseback and a synchronized and gleaming army at their back. 

Jon was not prepared for what he saw. 

Jon was a man that had no interest in other men, he liked women, yet even he could admit that Legolas could only be described as beautiful. He wondered if perhaps that was a trait of the elves, that the more he knew one the more he realized they were apparently a better version of men in every way possible. Seeing the other one next to him only confirmed his suspicions, elves were just too beautiful to be real. 

Taller than Legolas but as graceful as him with long platinum hair that seemed as soft as feathers, honestly better than even Daenerys’ if Jon was being truthful. With gleaming armor patterned as beautifully as Legolas’ bow, was a being that was ethereal. 

Jon knew it could only be Legolas’ father yet he did not seem like anyone’s father, he looked as young as Legolas but more hard faced than him. He seemed more like a god atop that horse with the silver circlet on his brow and the cascading hair.

They came upon them. The army halting unblinkingly when their king and prince did. Legolas dismounted his horse, graceful as ever, yet his father did not, staring down at them with a disapproving gaze, as if he’d expected to see something better. His eyes were of a clear blue, that Jon had seen only in his own son.

“My father, King Thranduil of Eryn Lasgalen, the last elven king of Arda.” His voice was clear as he introduced his own father like a stranger. Jon had the slight suspicion that their relationship wasn’t the best, but he decided not to think much of it. 

The king dismounted then, as graceful as his son had done before him. Like most people he towered over Jon, but his step was surer than any he’d seen before and Jon realized this is what a king should look like, truly look like, commanding and magnificent. 

“This is Jon Snow, Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North.” Legolas said looking at his father. Jon wasn’t one to be intimidated by anyone, but the intense gaze of the elven king was as hard and as frozen as the ice of the Wall. A blue more intense than his son’s. 

He managed to get himself together and speak as he bowed to him.

“It is an immense honor to meet you, King Thranduil.” Jon hoped with everything he had that he hadn’t butchered the name. The king raised an eyebrow and looked at his son, who had turned to look at him as if expecting him to say something in return. He sighed then, and spoke too.

“Well met.” He placed a hand to his chest in a way he’d seen Legolas do, probably a traditional greeting of their people. Jon noticed his accent was much like Legolas’ exotic yet not essosi. It was something else entirely.

“Jon, we shall head back immediately to Winterfell, there is no time to lose we’ve been gone too long and I fear your stubborn lords are unrestful, they won’t be kind to Daenerys and neither will your sister who seems to dislike her most of all.” Jon frowned. Sansa had been being difficult, but he was sure she was just angry... she didn’t have any reason to hate Daenerys. 

Still, Jon was in agreement with Legolas, they had to get back as soon as possible. 

He’d been away for too long and he didn’t entirely trust Sansa to remain diplomatic. Jon had already seen that if Daenerys felt like she wasn’t being respected she would retire her armies and leave them to the mercy of the dead. If she went, so would her husband and so would his elegant father. Jon could not have that. “Aye. We best go back soon. We can leave in half an hour.” 

“Good.” He replied, his father looked as bored as ever. His gaze seemed to be scanning his surroundings yet his eyes didn’t even move. 

‘Elves...’ he thought with a sigh. They’d probably be the death of him. With their pretty glow and their jumping tricks and their light footsteps on the snow. Because he noticed that King Thranduil hadn’t left any footprints either.

And in half an hour, off they went with a silent army at their back. Jon didn’t have words to describe how amazing the elven army was. Absolutely synchronized and stunning to behold, with their gleaming armor and their carved longbows. Jon had half a mind to ride besides Legolas, yet the presence of his father kept him far away from the friendly elf. They seemed to be having a discussion in the strange tongue Legolas sometimes used. Lord Flint was now besides Jon with a slight frown on his face. He had wanted to stay longer, but he had followed his commands nonetheless.

“Never thought I’d see an army like this.” He said then. “This soldiers are prettier than what most would consider beautiful women.” Jon agreed with that. They could all only be described as such.

“Aye. They are not men like us, they are something else. Elves.” Jon explained vaguely. “They’re better warriors and they’re immortal. You see, King Legolas is actually 3.000 years old. His father King Thranduil even older than that, I’m sure. This army has fought for thousands of years, my lord.” 

“I wouldn’t try getting in their way. Us northerners are stronger than the southerners but I’m not sure we could go against this pretty soldiers.” Jon agreed with his assessment once more. 

“No, Lord Flint, I wouldn’t dare to get in their way either.” 

And perhaps he’d never pronounced something as true as that was.


	11. More difficult introductions in the North

The outline of Winterfell was on the horizon and Legolas grew nervous by every second it drew closer. His father was like a heavy shadow at his side, as was Jon on the other side, slightly behind them. Legolas had they impression that his father either scared him, unsettled him or both. 

“And they call this a castle you say?” His father asked. The westerosi building style was very different from theirs, in Arda they did not have castles like Winterfell, more like fortresses. “Seems incredibly impractical to me.”

“Winterfell is the seat of House Stark, the greatest castle in the North.” Jon mentioned, his voice was clear although Legolas was sure he would have preferred not to talk to his father directly. “Built by Brandon the Builder, who built the Wall, as well.”

“I see.” Thranduil said distastefully. “But great as it may be to you, it wouldn’t last an attack for long. The walls would get breached briskly. The high towers are a danger to your own people, if they crumble, they’d crush everyone inside.” His father explained boringly, as if he were talking to a child. 

Well, Jon was but a newborn in his father’s eyes, so that was not a surprise.

“And how would the towers fall, your grace?” His father looked at Legolas impatiently, Jon was really not helping. His father was already unwilling enough. Calling him ‘your grace’ was probably not much better, they didn’t use it in Arda, that probably irritated him too. In Westeros, specially in the north, there were many things that would easily irritate him.

“Do you know what a catapult is?” He turned his gaze on him. Completely annoyed by what was in Jon’s eyes, insolence. His father did not like to be questioned. In fact, Legolas was surprised how much he had stand for so far. Perhaps he really was tired and ready to just be in peace in Valinor. 

Jon went quiet then, looking forward broodingly. 

“What in the world did I do to get sent here and be surrounded by these thick headed men?” He spoke in sindarin, throwing a sideway glance at Jon. “He reminds me of that Bard, the one who shot down Smaug...” his face became pensive and slightly amused. “Yes... and the one who wanted to reason with dwarves.”

“Adar, these people are different from our people. Very. But they have...” Legolas thought for a second. “Good things too, I’m sure.” His father turned towards him an annoyed look on his face.

“I’m helping you on this because you seem convinced this will allow us to go to the Grey Havens, yet I do expect to be treated with excellence.” And Legolas did not expect anything less for the last elven-king. 

“Yes, adar. I know of this. You forget that I am married to a queen that is much like you, she too strives for the very best.” Although Daenerys was much more altruist than his father, for she didn’t need something she wanted to be kind to others.

He nodded absentmindedly and looked forward once more. 

Soon they were before the gates of Winterfell, his father holding up a hand and halting their army as they entered. Thranduil’s royal guard followed them in. The courtyard was swarming with people, yet Legolas had eyes only for the purest starlight. 

Daenerys. 

She stood there, alongside Tyrion, Varys, Missandei and Greyworm who eyed everyone carefully, protecting her. As well as the northern lords and the Stark siblings.

His father stayed on his horse (which he was still displeased about, missing the comfort of an elven elk) while Jon and himself dismounted and hurried forward. He went straight for Daenerys, while Jon went to hug his siblings, Arya first. 

“Melethenin...” he breathed out. She embraced him warmly, a formal greeting between husband and wife. 

“Welcome back, my love. I missed you.” She said when they broke apart. Legolas instinctively turned when he felt the heavy gaze of _him_ on his back. It was then his father decided to dismount and walk as if he were gliding towards him and Daenerys. He felt her go stiff, back straighter than before, expressive eyebrows slightly raised and eyes bright as she stared. Leave it to his father to make an entrance. 

“Daenerys, this is my father, King Thranduil of Eryn Lasgalen, the last elven king of Arda.” Legolas announced, knowing the others would hear him too and be completely confused as to what Arda was. He turned towards his father then. 

“Adar, this is my wife, Queen Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen, Mother of Dragons and Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea.” His father would appreciate the flair of tittles.

“It is an honor to meet you, King Thranduil.” Daenerys said formally. Her face straight and warm. “Legolas has told me much about you.” 

“So he has.” He said. And Legolas just wanted to crawl into the deepest crevice of the Glittering Caves. How rude could he be? “I see you’re the one who has taken the heart of my son... an ordinary mortal woman.” 

“Adar...” Legolas warned, his father was going over the line, he wouldn’t insult Daenerys, even less so in front of all this lords who wanted nothing more but to disrespect her. He was about to tell him something before Daenerys answered, in a voice as clear as the Anduin. 

“I am no ordinary woman.” She said and a deafening roar shattered through the tundra. Three silhouettes flew by and his father’s eyes opened as wide as he’d allow them to be opened in front of mere mortals. “And mortal I may be but no one could love your son as fiercely as I do.”

To everyone’s surprise, even Legolas’ himself, his father stared with an indecipherable expression, before he nodded at her. “Mae l’ovannen, Daenerys Stormborn.” He placed a hand to his chest in greeting. Daenerys did the same and replied in very good sindarin. 

“Len suilon, Thranduil Oropherion.” His father seemed pleased by her knowing sindarin. Legolas remembered the first time he’d spoken sindarin in front of her, and how eager to learn it she’d been, claiming that it sounded like a beautiful song. Later on he taught it to talented Missandei, who had a way with languages worthy of any elf. 

More introductions were made then, Tyrion’s was particularly funny. 

“I see your wife shares your love for dwarves, Legolas.” He eyed Tyrion. “Although, I do have to say I’m surprised to see a dwarf so clean and without those disgusting beards hanging over their dirty faces.” Legolas threw him a look, and his father actually rolled his eyes at him.

“I- thank you?” Tyrion didn’t know what to answer to that, and Legolas did not blame him.

Next he eyed Varys with distaste, razing his hair was a reason to absolutely loath him without speaking a word to him.

The other difficult introduction had been Sansa’s, whom his father had completely decided to all but greet peacefully, instead insulting her. “Lady Sansa of House Stark.” Jon said formerly. His father eyed her strangely and looked towards him again. 

“Welcome to Winterfell.” Sansa said as she curtsied, yet her voice was something else, she’d sneer if she wasn’t scared of his father, Legolas was sure. His father seemed amused when he looked at her again. 

“She looks like Tauriel, I hope she’s not as foolish.” Legolas looked quickly towards him, with wide eyes. Why? Why was his father like this? Could he not make such comments when they were in private or at least in sindarin? Apparently not. Everyone held their breath as Sansa’s face turned into a proper sneer. 

“I will not be insulted in my own home. You can go from whence you came.” Jon immediately intervened. Whispering to her aggressively. The lords seemed to be in agreement, Legolas couldn’t say he blamed them. 

“You dare to tell me what I can and cannot do, girl?” His father seemed completely stunned, but amused and Legolas did not like that at all. His guard was alert to the squirming lords, no one would unsheathe a sword without getting an arrow through their head. 

“Adar... gin iallon.” Legolas begged him. He was making everything so much worse. This had been a terrible idea, and now he had to deal with the consequences. 

“Lady Sansa, please forgive my father. He is tired from his journey and sometimes he doesn’t measure what he says. Isn’t that right, Adar?” Legolas stared at him defiantly, daring him to say something else. He’d end up sleeping in the snow if he kept this act up. 

“It really isn’t, but do accept my...” Legolas threw him a look. “apologies.” Jon spoke then.

“Nothing to forgive, King Thranduil. Everyone’s probably tired and stressed, right Sansa?” The look he threw his sister was just like the one he’d thrown his father. Much like Thranduil, Sansa wasn’t pleased to have them here, yet they needed each other. The Starks need Daenerys’ and now his father’s armies, and his father needed to help them in order to go to Valinor and to get out of the snow he so hated. 

She threw her brother a look before she curtsied briskly and left. The blonde tall woman following after her and a younger squire boy following after them both, soon afterwards more lords started to leave, Daenerys stayed out though, as did her advisors. Arya seemed as amused as his father by everything that had gone down just moments before. But it was her deadpanning brother who spoke numbly.

“You need to fight to get what you want, don’t you, Elvenking?” 

His father turned his hard, cold eyes on him. “And who might you be?” 

“My brother, Brandon Stark.” Jon communicated. He had arranged for servants to go and prepare bed chambers for his new guests, but Legolas knew he was growing nervously impatient. Legolas just wanted to get his father away from all this humans, it’d be for the best. 

“What do you know of what I want, Brandon Stark?” His father spoke regally. He frowned slightly then. “You have darkness in you... and it will consume you.” His father drew near the boy, looking down at him. Bran didn’t seem the least bit fazed. Everyone else though was completely on edge.

“So do you... deep magic is with you. Old and withering.” His father wasn’t fazed but he was annoyed, Legolas saw. He’d known the boy had some kind of power but he hadn’t been able to grasp what it was, perhaps his father could, after all he used magic all the time, to hide his scar.

“What would a boy like you know of old? Whatever your magic is, it is but new in the eyes of an elf.” His father straightened himself then. Turning away from him. “Do not pretend to question me about what I want, boy. For I am patient and I can wait for what I want, unlike you.” 

Luckily, Jon had been just informed that new chambers were ready and off they went. His father followed by his guard, Daenerys hooked her arm with his as Jon led the way. 

“Your father is not as I expected.” Daenerys whispered to him. Although Legolas thought that his father could hear them anyways. “He doesn’t look much like your father, but your brother.” 

“Do not let his looks fool you, my father is more than 6.000 years old.” He whispered back. She nodded. 

“Yes I know of this.” 

“Did Tauriel look like Sansa, Legolas?” Legolas was not expecting that question, but he nodded nonetheless. 

“She had auburn hair like hers, but longer, and her eyes weren’t blue, but hazel. She was a silvan elf, and although my father favored her, she ended up betraying him, in his eyes, for a dwarf. You know of this.” Daenerys seemed pensive. 

“Yes.” She answered. After a moment she spoke again, softly. “I am sorry she’s not with you anymore, I know you loved her.” Legolas smiled softly at her. How he loved her kind heart.

“Tauriel followed her heart and I can never blame her for it. I am glad she did not return my love then, for now I am free to love you as fiercely as I do.” He told her and caressed her face. 

Yes, he was grateful to the Valar for sending him off course. Although deep in his heart he still longed to sail, he had something stronger pulling him towards the land now. 


	12. The sellsword who almost died at the hand of an angry elf

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I don’t know why I didn’t think of writing this before, so I decided to write it as a flashback into the first adventures of Legolas and Daenerys. The idea came at like 1 am and I didn’t go to bed until I’d written it. Hope you enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it...

_~Flashback~_

Legolas had been in this Essos place for some time now, perhaps even a year. He’d decided to follow the young Queen he’d befriended in Qarth when everything had been confusing for him. Young Daenerys Targaryen had been a blessing from Eru Illúvatar Himself. She had helped him through his realization that he was not in Valinor and that apparently he wouldn’t go there any time soon. 

After learning of everything she’d been through before she came to Qarth, he’d helped her through the stealing of her dragons —whom he still very much not trusted even if he could communicate with them— he had not approved of what she’d done to their host Xaro Xoan Daxos and the girl Doreah, but he could not blame her for it either, for she had been betrayed by those she had trusted and he couldn’t think of a pain worst than that. 

Afterwards, when they’d sailed to what he now knew as Astapor, Legolas had promised himself he would help her take back her throne, for she was kind hearted, and so she would be a good queen. And as one she’d been proving herself. 

She’d freed thousand upon thousand of slaves who’d lived in conditions no being should live in. Legolas felt enraged to know how these slavers treated these innocent men, women and children. Much like the Corsairs of Umbar, the ones he and his dearest friends took down besides the Army of the Dead. 

Now, Daenerys attempted to conquer yet another city, and free its people from the shackles of slavery. The sellsword company of the Second Sons, as they called them here, were currently sitting in their tent, where Legolas observed them keenly. He did not like what he observed. Not at all. 

He had almost shot an arrow through Mero, the disgusting man who’d spoken ill of Daenerys. Calling her a whore. How dared he? In this place everyone was ready to insult women and Legolas was enraged every time it happened. Yet, the young Queen he admired so, had taken the insult and allowed the dirty man to even sit beside her. Legolas’ fingers were itching for his bow, for his knives, for anything that could get the man away from her.

“You’ll all be slaves after the battle unless I save you.” The man taunted. The child will be dead before the battle has even begun if he kept calling sweet Missandei ‘slave girl’ or kept disrespecting his friend the Queen, Legolas thought. “Take your clothes off, come sit on Mero’s lap and I might give you my Second Sons.” 

“Give me your Second Sons and I may not have you gelded.” Daenerys answered nonchalantly. Her voice firm and with the hint of a humorless smile. The man didn’t like the comment and she outright ignored him. “Ser Barristan how many men fight for the Second Sons?”

“Under two thousand, your grace.” The old knight answered. Legolas had grown to like the man. He was ripe in age, but that did not mean he was not strong nor resilient still. “We have ten thousand Unsullied.” 

“I’m only a young girl new to the ways of war perhaps an experienced captain like yourself can propose how you pretend to defeat us all.” Legolas knew by experience that a small force could win against a larger host if they were well prepared. He had survived many instances in which he was on the disadvantaged side of a battlefield after all.

“I hope the old man is better with a sword than he is with a lie.” Legolas did not like any of the captains. But the one called Daario Naharis was asking for that arrow, and what was the man thinking with that blue hair, it was revolting to say the least. “You have eight thousand Unsullied.” He would wipe off that smirk from his face if he looked at Daenerys like that once more. He would end him like he would an orc.

“You’re very young to be a captain.” Legolas pointed out, his face unreadable. He couldn’t hold his tongue. He had a deep discomfort for the man. He could sense his rottenness from where he stood. Daario Naharis eyed him with interest like most people in this strange lands did. Legolas knew he was not the average Essosi nor was he human for that matter, so he was bound to get curious glances from time to time.

“He’s not a captain, he’s a lieutenant.” The other captain who’s name Legolas had forgotten answered gruffly. 

“Even if your numbers are right you must admit the odds don’t favor your side.” Daenerys commented dryly, as if uninterested, but Legolas had known her long enough to hear the discomfort in her voice. The annoyance. She was getting tired of these men.

“The Second Sons have faced worst odds and won.” 

“The Second Sons have faced worst odds and run.” Ser Jorah corrected and Legolas chuckled to himself. Daenerys tried to keep her amusement to herself as well. 

“You could fight for me.” She told Mero. Legolas hadn’t liked this plan since they’d first proposed it. He would rather prepare a sneak attack into the city, which he knew would be easy enough to accomplish with his elven agility. 

“We’ve taken the slavers’ gold.” Mero declared. Eyeing Missandei too much for Legolas’ comfort. “We fight for Yunkai.” Would you look at that, an honest sellsword! Did he just try to smell her?

“I will pay you as much and more.” Daenerys sugarcoated.

“Our contract is our bond, if we break our bond no one will hire the Second Son’s again.” 

“Ride with me and you’ll never need another contract.” As Daenerys spoke, he saw the ambitious gleam in Naharis’ eye, which told him the man was not to be trusted. He knew the man would try something, he didn’t know what exactly, but he could sense it. “You’ll have gold and castles and lordships of your choosing when I take back the Seven Kingdoms.”

“You have no ships, you have no siege weapons, you have no cavalry.” He was annoyed to have to agree with Naharis.

“A fortnight ago I had no army, a year ago I had no dragons.” With a cold look she turned to Mero and gave him an ultimatum. “You have two days to decide.” 

“Show me your cunt to see if it is worth fighting for.” He had had enough. Faster than sight his arrow was aimed. The other men didn’t even have time to get out their weapons. 

“Do not think I won’t kill you, sellsword. It would be my pleasure.” He said. The man seemed ready to burst. The others were too shocked to react. And even if they did, the three of them would have an arrow through their chests before they could. They eyed him with angry eyes, still trying to figure out how someone could knock an arrow without being seen until it was already in place.

“Two days.” Daenerys repeated. Legolas didn’t let go of his arrow still pointed at Mero. She obviously was more diplomatic. “You seem to be enjoying my wine, perhaps you’d like a flagon to help you ponder.” The so called Titan’s bastard looked angrily towards him. Legolas gave him a smirk just to irritate him even more. 

“Only a flagon? And what will my brothers in arms drink?” He had the gall to ask that.

“They will not drink then.” Legolas said. “Be grateful for what the Queen has offered you.” He knew he shouldn’t be speaking so openly in Daenerys’ negotiations, but he was never one to keep quiet when his friends were disrespected. He hadn’t done so for Aragorn in the Secret Council and he had not done so for Gimli against Éomer in the Riddermark. He wouldn’t start now.

“In the Second Sons we share everything.” Mero said. He looked towards Legolas with pure loath. He stood up carefully. The arrow followed him until he was outside the tent. When he was farther away thinking himself safe enough to dodge perhaps, he spoke again and Legolas wished he had released that arrow. “After the battle maybe we’ll share you.”

With one last loath filled glance he slapped Missandei’s buttocks before he exited. Legolas’ head was swimming in rage and he let go of the arrow, knowing it would pierce no one if he did not willed it so, just so he could release his anger with it. 

“Legolas.” Daenerys said clearly. She had a murderous look on her face as she turned to him. “If it comes to battle, kill that one first.”

“It would be my pleasure, Daenerys.” He replied. Knowing his expression probably mirrored hers. For as much as he disliked shedding blood, such disrespect for women, specially for women he cared for, would not be tolerated. 

———

Legolas walked over the camp as he usually did during the warm evenings. He walked and listened to the Unsullied speak in their tongue, he saw them rejoice in their new freedom and he himself rejoiced to have been able to help them. 

He was doing his usual trail when he notice a figure, a man, dressed in Unsullied armor, yet Legolas instantly knew he was no Unsullied. He carried a sack and weapons on his figure, and he was headed straight to what he knew was Daenerys’ tent. 

An assassin. 

He immediately followed. He would not kill him with an arrow, for he would interrogate the man until he told him who had sent him to kill his friend. And so he followed. The man never noticed his presence even when he looked over his shoulders in case someone pursued him. This close by Legolas could hear Missandei and Daenerys talking about Dothraki pronunciations animatedly as the assassin quietly entered the tent. 

Legolas went straight after him. He heard the yelp Missandei released and the noise of water, the man entered while Daenerys was bathing no doubt. He felt only deep disgust for such a creature. He appeared without sound. Daenerys immediately saw him, but didn’t dare to look towards him, lest she alert the man who held a knife to Missandei’s throat. 

The man didn’t know he was there until one of his long knives was pressed to his own throat. In surprise the man released his hold on Missandei who shuffled away in fear. 

“Now, what do we have here?” Legolas asked coldly. The man moved his hand, and he pressed his knife tighter. “Reveal yourself if you wish for a shed of mercy.” Daenerys eyed the encounter from her tub and Legolas was careful not to look in her direction. 

He took off his helmet and Legolas wanted to scream ‘I knew it’ to anyone who would hear. Daario Naharis in the flesh. 

Daenerys leveled her gaze at him. “You were sent here to kill me.” She said it matter of factly and Legolas was reminded of some of their long conversations, when she’d told him how the Westerosi king always sent assassins after her and her brother as children. 

“I don’t want to kill you.” He tried to wrestle out of Legolas’ grasp but he was steadfast. 

“What do your captains have to say about that, lieutenant?” He taunted. The man grew tense. 

“The bag. Check its contents and you’ll have your answer.” Quickly he had taken the bag and opened it, while still holding the Second Son in place. The bag fell off his hand when he saw the contents. Two heads rolled out on the tent’s floor. His own captains.

“Why?” Both he and Daenerys asked in unison. 

“If you would have your brother release me, your grace. I would explain.” What?

“Legolas is not my brother, and thank the gods for that. My brother would have already killed you for your insolence.” She dismissed him.

“You will explain and if I like what you say I will release you.” That was the truth of it and Legolas would do it for more that he didn’t want to.

“We had differences.” The man sighed. What did it take to wipe that smirk off his face?

“Over what?” She asked sharply. Daenerys didn’t enjoy to have been interrupted while she bathed and least of all to have had her dearest friend and handmaiden threatened at knife point. 

“Your beauty.” He did not notice he had pressed the knife closer to the man’s throat until he winced. “It meant more to me than it did to them.”

Daenerys was not fooled. She eyed him like she would a slaver, with disregard. “You’re a strange man.”

“I’m the simplest man you’ll ever meet.” He answered. He tried to glance at Legolas over his shoulder, but was reminded much too soon of the elvish knife at his throat. “I only do what I want to do.”

“This is supposed to impress us?” Legolas asked irritated. This man was too much like an orc for his liking. His answers were too vague and taunting. 

“Not you, blondie.” The nickname angered him beyond measure. He dared talk about his hair, when his looked like a painting of the sea gone wrong? He threw what he suspected should be a charming smile towards Daenerys, who was still very much displeased.

“You thought this would impress me? If anything it makes me wonder why I would trust a man who murders his own captains.”

“They ordered me to murder you, I told them I preferred not to, they told me I had no choice, I told them I am Daario Naharis, I always have a choice. They drew their swords and I drew mine.” 

She did something Legolas was certainly not expecting and he averted both himself and the smirking sellsword from her naked body as she rose from the tub. Missandei immediately moved to cover her. Daario Naharis fought against his tight grip but Legolas was adamant in not letting him ogle Daenerys.

“You will swear your Second Sons into my service, and if you even think of betraying me, my dragons will burn you alive.” She told him. When she was in her robe, Legolas finally turned both of them towards her. She gave him a look and for more that he hated it, he let his grip on the sellsword go. 

The idiot tried to elbow him in the face, trying to make it look like he was just stretching, but Legolas was much too quick for that. He looked like a fool elbowing the air. He glared at him before dropping to his knee.

“The Second Sons are yours and so is Daario Naharis. My sword is yours, my life is yours, my heart is yours.” He said the last part with a smirk Legolas did not like.   
  
“The queen did not ask for your life nor for your heart.” Legolas told him sharply. “You’ve intruded enough on her as it is.” Daario Naharis turned to him and gave him what he supposed should be intimidating. Legolas had faced orcs, spiders, trolls for centuries and this child of a man pretended to intimidate him. 

“Shouldn’t the queen decide that for herself, blondie?” He should have shot that arrow when he had the chance.

“You will not disrespect Legolas if you wish to serve me, Daario Naharis, for he is a dear friend of mine and a prince in his own right. You will give him the respect he deserves.” Well, that was out now. He certainly did not enjoy when people knew of his royal past. Even Missandei didn’t know, but she did her best to keep the shock from her features. A smart woman indeed.

“Forgive me, my queen.” The man uttered the false apologies. Hoping to fool someone with them. “And prince.” He turned to him. He had a strange look on his face, mocking, but something else was there too. Something that he did not like. But he didn’t like the man in any sense so that was no surprise. 

“We will meet in the war tent tomorrow to discuss our plans.” Daenerys dismissed him. “Do not think of betraying me.” Legolas pulled him to his feet and all but pushed him out. 

“Missandei, would you give us a moment?” Daenerys asked the dark skinned girl, who nodded eagerly and left them, with only the crackling of the fire in the tent to keep them company. 

“Forgive me for today. It was wrong of me to speak up in your negotiations.” He bowed in apology. He hadn’t had a chance to do so with just the two of them. 

She graced him with a smile. “I rather enjoyed the look on their faces when your arrow all but appeared in your bow.” 

He smiled too then. “I was one step away from shooting it. I’ve never been the most diplomatic.”

“What do you think of the man?” She asked. She motioned towards the direction in which he’d kicked out the sellsword. 

“I don’t trust him, I don’t like him and if I could I would keep him as far away from you as possible, but that is not for me to decide.” He admitted. Sometimes Legolas felt things he’d never felt before when he spoke with Daenerys, or when he saw her smile. The smallest of things would have him smiling as well. He didn’t know what to make of it.

Daenerys laughed. “I do not trust him either. He is one of those men who are too full of themselves for their own good.” He could agree with that, alright. “And indeed I do not want him too close, lest he get the wrong idea.”

“What wrong idea would that be?” Legolas had to ask. He didn’t know why, he just had to.

“The fact that I would allow him in my bed.” Legolas gulped. Daenerys as noble as her blood was, had no problem in being direct in that type of things, he was a bit more uncomfortable with such themes. As an elf he was not unaccustomed to nudity, but for his people it wasn’t necessarily associated with sexual relations. Here though, everywhere you turned you could find a woman —or a man for that matter— without clothes, and not because they were bathing in the river.

“I think too highly of you to believe you would.” She smiled, so dazzling. 

“You know I appreciate your company and your support Legolas, you’re one of the people I trust the most.” He nodded at her in appreciation. “There’s no one with more experience in life than you, I believe. So I would ask some advice from you.”

“Anything I can provide to relieve you of your worries I will.”

“Do you think I could really conquer three off the richest cities in Essos and keep them under my control?” Legolas had to admit he was not expecting that. Always confident and strong Daenerys, was very different from doubtful and vulnerable Daenerys. He knew she could do anything she put her mind on.

“You know how long I’ve lived... thousands of years have passed. I’ve seen war and peace, I’ve seen corrupted rulers and great rulers. My dear friend Aragorn was a great king to the race of Men and my father has been a great king for the people of Eryn Lasgalen. I’ve seen enough to know that you can be a great ruler too. A queen who cares for her people and even for those who are not, you needn’t doubt yourself Daenerys, you’re kind hearted and you’re good. And all these slaves, will be grateful to you for the rest of their lives, not just because you freed them, but because you cared enough to see them when no one else would.”

“I doubt myself because I fear to become like my brother, corrupted by power, and driven mad.” She admitted. The fear in her eyes had Legolas reaching out to hold her hand. 

“The race of Men is corrupted, and they worry about how much power they posses, they have lost most of their honor, little men have honor in the world any longer, but you are no man, you’re an honorable woman, and you will make the right choice, your worries are unfounded, someone who worries about being corrupted is not easily trapped by corruption.”

She sighed. “I hope you’re right.”

“I know I am.” He kissed her knuckles. “Losto vae, Daenerys.”

“Goodnight, Legolas.”


	13. A knight of the Seven Kingdoms and an Elven-king

Having his father in Winterfell had proved to be not only a difficult experience, but an agonizing comings and goings of keeping him in check. He clearly cared not to offend anyone, after all they were mere babes in the eyes of an elf as old as either of them, but unlike his father, Legolas was used to mortality. His greatest friends had been cursed with such a thing. 

Oh, how he longed for Gimli and Aragorn in moments when his patience needed betterment... even if he was surprised to admit his father hadn’t been that bad. But everything else, the lords, the stress that was heavy in the air of a coming battle, everything pretty much, how would Gimli say it... sucked.

Daenerys as always was a brightness in his cloudy and unsettled thoughts, but even her was going to her limit, and driving her to her limit, was not a good thing for sure. 

The current meeting was absolutely at risk of being the tipping point.

The Kingslayer stood in dirty clothes and with unkept golden hair right before them. Claiming to have come to aid them, telling them he’d pleaded with his sister to see reason and to send her armies in aid. He clearly hadn’t been successful. 

It had been a strange sight to see that his father was present, not only for Legolas himself, but for all the lords and ladies in the room. He was sitting in the High Table next to himself, looking bored out of his mind, drinking wine, but that wasn’t a surprise, he wouldn’t have gone to Valinor without enough reserves. 

He most certainly had no idea what was going on and what the whole ordeal was, but he had probably gotten even more bored in his ‘plain room’ because he wouldn’t be here if that weren’t the case. They were still getting looks from the northerners, sometimes wary, sometimes starstruck, sometimes just plain undiluted staring. Absolutely uncomfortable.

Everything Jaime Lannister said, was beaten by Daenerys’ counter arguments, she was absolutely displeased to be dealing with this now, but they had no other choice.

“I don’t know what else I can say, your grace.” Jaime Lannister said almost defeatedly. “I was named a traitor by my own sister because I insisted on coming here. I want to help.” Legolas believed he did want to help, but what will he do after he’s done what he’s come here for?

“And what would you do after this battle is over, Ser Jaime?” Legolas voiced. Eyes quickly snapped to him. He’d been quieter since the arrival of his people, letting Daenerys handle everything. He’d been spending a lot of time with his fellow elves, he’d missed having someone who knew and practiced their ways. “You would go back to your sister? Are we supposed to forget everything you and your family have done against the Targaryens and the Starks?”

“I don’t expect anyone to forget what I’ve done, most of which I’m not sorry for. I was defending my family, my house, and the kingdom.” 

“Do not pretend to be an honorable man, Ser.” Daenerys tells him. “You murdered your king after your father stormed the city, after he butchered my niece, nephew and my good sister. He may have been mad and cruel but he was already defeated.” 

“The mad king wanted to burn the whole of King’s Landing with wildfire, if I hadn’t killed him, no Stark child would be sitting here because their father would have been blown to pieces.” Everyone gasped at that. Legolas felt Daenerys shift in her chair and he didn’t have to look at her to know she wanted to throw up. 

He knew the ruined knight wasn’t lying. And even though his father had been quiet until now, his interest had apparently been piqued. “Who is this mad king he speaks of Legolas?”

“He was Daenerys’ father. It is not a great time to explain now, aren’t you always saying how patient you are?” He retorted. Everyone around them was whispering and even Sansa and Jon who sat on Daenerys’ other side were at a loss for words, but some eyes had looked towards him and his father. 

“Do not talk to me that way Legolas.” He warned, making more eyes turn towards them. Legolas felt absolutely humiliated, being scolded like a little boy by his father in front of the hotheaded northern lords no less. He’d looked for it, he knew he’d exaggerated, he didn’t like to disrespect his father, and his humiliation was his punishment.

“Forgive me, adar.” He mumbled, knowing he’d hear him all the same. Someone had to say something sooner or later and considering the other leaders beside him were too involved in the whole thing, he decided to step up and address the situation. 

“This is news to everyone in this hall, Ser Jaime, why is that?” He prodded. “You’ve allowed everyone to call you Kingslayer for two decades, explain.” 

The Lannister went on to explain what had happened in King’s Landing about twenty three years prior, and Legolas had to admit he felt for the man, bearing that secret and the disrespect that came to him must have been agonizing, but he didn’t quite understand his reasoning behind not saying anything about it. That was just plain stupid.

“Well, that it’s just ridiculously dense.” And of course he had to say something because when has the Elvenking kept quiet any of his thoughts. But he must be really bored to actually comment on the dealings of men. “If everyone knew this man was mad then everyone would have believed you, after all, you didn’t have any other motive to kill him if you served him, now did you?”

He had the attention of everyone in the hall. Leave it to his father to humiliate someone whilst still having a valid point. Because that had been exactly what Legolas had thought. Jaime wasn’t having it, he was surely offended by the amused expression that graced his father’s face.

“As I’ve said, my word against Lord Stark’s word wouldn’t have been believed.” Jaime refuted. This lord Stark was really one for the ages wasn’t he? The most honorable man? Legolas doubted it. He could count with his fingers how many of the race of men were truly honorable in the world.

His father didn’t answer to that, but his amused expression stayed. 

“Alright.” It was merely a whisper, yet Legolas knew who it was. She clears her throat and her stony facade comes back in full display. “It is not only my choice, but the Stark family’s as the ruling family of Winterfell, Ser Jaime. By my leave you can stay under guard.” He won’t deny he is relatively surprised, but he knew she still feels guilt over her family’s crimes. 

“What does the Warden of the North have to say about it?” He asks pointedly at Jon, who seems to snap back into himself. 

“We need every man we can get.” It doesn’t surprise him that that’s his answer.

Sansa although no one asked her, speaks her mind as well. “I speak for all the northerners in this hall when I say we do not trust nor like the Lannisters, but Lady Brienne has told me of how you saved her and of your oath to my mother, and it is by that for which I agree you stay under the Queen’s condition.” 

And that was that. 

Legolas must admit he is pleased with the results of the meeting. No arguing in the most part except for the beginning when they’d first brought the Lannister knight in. 

“This went better than I thought it would.” He whispered to Daenerys. She squeezed his hand under the table in response. “But I am sorry for what you had to discover, ithildin nin”

“I just can’t fathom how someone could be so cruel, so far gone to want to do something as despicable as burning a whole city.” The lords had started to leave, Jon and Sansa were talking amongst themselves in whispers, and Daenerys’ only giveaway of her internal turmoil was the tremor in her voice. “Promise me you won’t let me become like him, promise me you’ll stop me if you have to.”

He is stunned for a moment, how could she even think she could do something so cruel. She would never. “Daenerys, you’re one of the kindest people I’ve ever known. You can’t believe you would be capable of such a thing.” She tilts her head to the side, contemplating his words.

“Promise me.”

He inhales deeply. “You’re not your father. You will never become your father.”

“Promise me, Legolas.” She whispers. “Promise me, please.”

“I promise you.” He means it, even if it pains him deeply. He promises to try, but he’s not sure he would have the strength to do what she is implying.

“Thank you.” She kisses his cheek and they both stand. “Will you be coming with me to the Dothraki camp?”

He shakes his head. “I’ll have to pass, melethenin, I promised the youngest Stark girl to have a spar with her.” She seems amused by this.

“Be gentle with her, my love.” Legolas gives her the most innocent look he can muster. Daenerys is not fooled. “I know you like to show off, husband of mine. I’ve seen her fight and she’s very good but she is still a young girl.”

“Everyone is a young girl and a young boy in my eyes, wife of mine.” He mocks her slightly and she just swats him in the chest.

“I will see you later, then.” She says with that small beautiful smile of hers, before walking away. She is followed by Missandei, Greyworm and her Unsullied guard, the quicker ones who had resisted the most against him. Her safety had always been of utmost importance to him. 

He’d been left alone with his father, the hall had cleared. His father was still comfortably seated, sipping from his Dorwinion wine. Legolas hoped no one dared to sniff anywhere near that wine, he wasn’t sure what effect it would have on mortal men. He’d have to keep it as far away from Tyrion as possible. 

“Your wife seems to be a rational woman, Legolas.” He is beyond surprised by that. He was not expecting that kind of conversation even if he knew his father had heard each and every word spoken between them. “I believe she cares for you deeply.”

“I- yes, I believe she does, thank you.” His father nods at him. 

“I am happy for you.” He confesses, and Legolas feels warmth spread through his chest. “I thought that your chance of falling in love had passed long ago. That you would stay as you were for eternity, but even if it gladdens me, it also worries me, for I do not want to witness your heartbreak when she dies, as all mortals are destined. You’re my son, and I love you. You must know this, and it is because of my love for you that I do not want you to become like me, the pain your mother left in me has not healed and it shall never do so, it has turned me careless in regards to you, but I am proud of you, even if I don’t approve of your marriage in full.” 

He has no words for him. He just stares. He is warm, he doesn’t believe he’d felt what he was feeling now in a long time. “Ada...” he was reduced to feeling like a child.

“Is it worth it, Legolas?” He asked. “Is it worth it to have less than a hundred years of happiness and suffer heartbreak for all eternity? I ask you again, is it worth it to die for your love?”

“It is, ada.” Legolas gave him a sad smile. “Was it worth it for you? The time you spent with mother?”

“Yes. It was worth all of it. It gave us you, little leaf...” His father admitted. A grief stricken look crossing his face. How long had it been since the last time had called him ‘little leaf’? He must have still been an elfling. 

“Thank you, ada.” He knew with that said their conversation was over. But Legolas appreciated everything his father had said, even the nickname. Appreciated how much he cared. And even if they didn’t always agree, he was there for him.

He cleared his throat, trying to speak through the lump that had momentarily lodged in his throat. “Adar, what will you be doing now?”

“Well, I suppose I’ll accompany you for the day. How did I let you convince me to help this awfully boring mortals again?” Legolas shook his head at his father’s antics. He was back to being his usual self. His father gave him an easy smile, telling him he had appreciated their conversation as well.

“Of course, adar. I was going to have a spar with the youngest lady Stark. If you would follow me to the training yard?” 

They headed out of the great hall where he’d dismissed his guard, much to the shock of Tirtondír. Everyone they passed on their way stared at them, the same kinds of looks that Legolas had already grown accustomed to even before he came to Westeros. During his time in Essos with Daenerys, traveling from Qarth to the Free Cities, his appearance had called much attention. His hair although firstly mistaken as Valyrian was a beacon for looks amongst people that were commonly dark skinned and dark haired. That without considering the fact that elves are simply fairer than the race of men and therefore attract more attention. 

He and his father were not only fair as their race designed, but he knew the bewildered glances of comparison between both of them. To anyone who didn’t know of their immortality, it would be absolutely impossible to believe they were father and son. He did not blame them, for men are that way, but that did not mean it didn’t inconvenience him slightly. Considering he could hear what they whispered every time. Sorcerers, long haired southerners and pretty weaklings, they called them. His father was remastering the art of eye rolling.

“Arya Stark.” Legolas knew the girl was sulking and hiding, but not good enough for him not to hear her, although he handed it to her, she had an ability almost as good as Aragorn’s for stealth. 

She came out from where she was hiding and gave him a small grin. “Finally.”

“I promised didn’t I?” He told her with a matching grin, he looked towards his father then. “Arya, my father King Thranduil. Adar, Lady Arya Stark of Winterfell.” 

“She is the girl with which you will spar? She’s a little... short.” He said curiously, as if he could not fathom why in the world he would go against such a short opponent. 

“She is right here and she is fast.” She huffed. Her eyes hard. It was amusing to see how quickly her emotions changed.

His father cocked his head to the side. “Well, then, don’t let me stop you.” He eyed the snow with discomfort. The absence of foliaged trees was something neither of them could stand, the snow just reminded them both of it. 

Legolas let go of his bow and got into position. Arya unsheathed her sword and twirled it in her hands. Her fighting didn’t seem familiar to him, but that would only make their spar more interesting. 

She went in for an attack, twisting, as if she were dancing. Legolas dodged, unsheathing out one of his knives as he did. Arya twisted away and twirled her thin sword once more. Legolas attacked first now, she parried the blow skillfully. He liked her fighting style, so light, like branches swinging in the trees of Eryn Lasgalen. She was a talented warrior for one so young, she had hard training by the accuracy of her blows and parries, yet...

She advanced and he parried, but he noticed there was a quick instance in which she left her back unguarded. For a normal human it was much too quick to actually be useful, but for him... He attacked her again, waiting for the moment in which she would parry and twirl away, when she started to turn, Legolas knew where to aim. She went still, when she saw the knife pointed in her direction.

“How?” She seemed absolutely bewildered.

“I told you I was quicker.” He dropped his attack.

“You leave yourself open for an attack when you twirl away, girl.” His father assessed from the sidelines. “It would be difficult for a mortal, it’s not open for attack for long, you’re quick for one of your race. Not swift enough for an elf.”

She looked curiously at his father. He seemed to be in a much more open humor today, perhaps it had to do with their earlier conversation. “You fight too?”

Legolas couldn’t help but laugh. “My father is a great warrior. He has much experience in battle.” 

“He doesn’t seem like the type.” She admitted, eyeing him. For westerosi it could be easy to think his father was not the type to go into battle alongside his warriors, but westerosi were very different from the people of Middle Earth. 

His father stepped forward and unsheathed his own blade, that was usually concealed by his robes. “This is not for fashion, child.” He sounded offended and for once Legolas could agree with his reasoning for being offended.

Arya let a gasp escape her. “That sword is beautiful.”

“It was crafted by master elven smiths.” Legolas explained. His father’s blade was one for envy indeed. Not even the most beautiful of Valyrian steel one’s they had here could begin to compare to a blade forged by his people. 

His father admired it for a second before unsheathing it again, and that was when Legolas heard commotion coming from the courtyard, from the main entrance of Winterfell. Riders had arrived.

“Someone’s arrived. At the main gate.” He told Arya. His father seemed to notice the same commotion he’d heard and sighed. 

“More mortals. Astounding.” 

“How can you know? It’s not possible to-” She began, but cut herself off as Legolas pointed towards his ears, reminding her of what he was. “Sure. Elves are great.” She said sarcastically. Even though there was a hint of amazement there.

“I believe you are the most sensible human in this place, girl.” His father gave her a curious look, he wasn’t actually smiling but he seemed pleased. 

Legolas threw him a glance and he rolled his eyes at him. “Yes, Legolas your wife too. At least she speaks Sindarin...”

He shook his head and Arya hid her amusement, still, he knew she found their banter funny. He was realizing she was trained in concealing her emotions and facial expressions, but he always seemed to surprise her and amaze her anyway. 

“You don’t truly seem like father and son. Yet I know you don’t lie.” She said carefully. 

“Yes, well, elves are immortal as I’ve already told you, so my father and I look about the same age physically.” Legolas said. “He is much, much older than me.” He threw him a look that said ‘don’t say anything more’.

“Immortality is a foreign concept to mortals. It is clear that he is of my blood.” His father said slightly annoyed. 

“That is certainly clear.” She conceded. “Both of you have the prettiest hair I’ve ever seen in either men and women.”

“Oh, you’re truly a sensible one, aren’t you Arya Stark?” If he used her name that meant he was really surprised and interested by her.

“Yes.” A nod of her head, firm and decisive. As much as his father liked being in control he also like strength, that had been perhaps what he’d used to like about Tauriel... Arya too reminded him of his auburn haired friend.

“Good.” Oh, did he really just give her a small upward curl of his lips? Did he just gave her what was the beginning of a half smile? He had to hand it to Arya, she was charming in another degree of intensity if she had managed to make his father sound pleased and even give her what could be considered a smile in his standards. 

He liked what was happening but during their conversation he’d been drowning in curiosity to know who was that had arrived. 

“I suggest, we go see who has come to Winterfell on this fair day.” His father threw him an annoyed look, but he said he would stick with him for today. So he would come with him. 

“You go ahead, I need to spar with Brienne.” Legolas cocked his head in question, not entirely sure on who this Brienne was. 

“Is that the tall blond haired woman who follows your sister?” She nodded.

“Brienne is a great warrior, different from my fighting style, but she’s strong.” Legolas thought it was a good thing they had female fighters. He knew there weren’t much in Westeros, the ladies preferred to sit and wait for their husbands to come home, instead of fighting.

“I will see you later then. Novaer!” She looked weirdly at him.

“It means farewell in Sindarin, my lady.” He joked and she grimaced. He laughed and she shook her head in discomfort.

“That’s good to know, your grace.” She mocked a bow and went on her way, as he and his father did the same. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just remembered that I’ve put words in Sindarin and I’ve never put the translations so I’ll put them here now.
> 
> Melethenin-> my love.  
> Ithildin nin-> my starlight  
> Adar/ada-> father/ dad  
> Ni meleth le-> I love you  
> Len hannon-> thank you  
> Novaer-> farewell
> 
> I think that’s all the Sindarin I’ve used. If I use anything more I’ll add it.


End file.
